


to touch the sun

by Yilena



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Horror, Minor Character Death, Romance, Sexual Content, Slow Burn, Stalking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:22:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27306964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yilena/pseuds/Yilena
Summary: On a normal day, Marinette's approached by the man she's been admiring in the café for months. With her friend's advice on how to flirt, she clumsily enters a relationship with Adrien and tests his boundaries to see what's too far. AU.(mari's first love is unforgettable in a different way.)
Relationships: Adrien Agreste/Marinette Dupain-Cheng
Comments: 31
Kudos: 105





	to touch the sun

**Author's Note:**

> this is the “trick” fic of the two for this halloween. i'm not sure whether this really counts for the horror tag, but i do think the ending i chose is a lot more horrifying than having every secret be revealed. sometimes it's more scary not to know everything, right?? 
> 
> i hope you guys enjoy this!! i'm very nervous that the plot twists might not click since they're very... important?? i've been burned with _rin_ too many times the past months with only one person guessing them sdlkgjdhfj 
> 
> **warnings** for: stalking, violence, and murder.

_Miraculous: Tales of Ladybug & Chat Noir © Thomas Astruc_

“How do you get a guy to like you?”

“I don't know,” Chloé replied, pulling a face after downing her shot. “I'm gay as hell. Why else do you think I'm over here?”

“Because you like me as a potential friend now?” Marinette suggested with a laugh.

“No, I'm still trying to fuck you,” Chloé denied, nudging Marinette's drink closer to her with a pointed look. “Why bother if he's not going to even look at you?”

There was nothing predatory to Chloé's behaviour; her words didn't match her actions. Chloé wasn't leaning close to her, wasn't trying to touch her in an uncomfortable way, and hadn't done anything than talk to her after Marinette had blurted out that she was straight.

The fact that she was sticking around to talk meant that she was lonely enough to stick around.

“I like him,” Marinette complained, taking a tentative sip of her drink. It was too strong for her taste, the kind that she'd been warned against having too much carelessly. “And I think he might like me, too.”

Chloé squinted. “You just said he doesn't like you.”

It had never been the plan to talk about her feelings, but that was out of the window when she'd caught Chloé's attention. Marinette had been bewildered at first, unsure on what to do with a confident woman suddenly approaching her when it wasn't a normal occurrence for her.

“Maybe?” she replied, trying to tuck her short hair behind her ear. “I can't really tell. But I want to be _sure_ you know?”

Chloé scoffed. “Just ask him to fuck.”

Marinette blinked. “Do people do that?”

It earned her a judging stare in response. “What do you think?”

“I don't know,” Marinette admitted, shifting in her seat, suddenly unable to look Chloé in the eyes from that confession. Her voice was ever-so-quiet as she admitted, “I've never... been interested in anyone before.”

Chloé's unimpressed response was, “You're twenty-five.”

“This is new for me,” she said, swirling the contents of her drink around, face feeling a bit warm. “I never cared about this kind of thing before. And since you're so... experienced, I thought you could help me.”

“What makes you think I'm experienced?” Chloé questioned. “Other than my good looks, of course.”

Surprisingly, she didn't laugh at that.

“You had the confidence to flirt with me, a stranger,” she pointed out. “I would've _never_ done that. Walking up to a stranger in public? That sounds like a nightmare to me.”

Chloé tutted. “So, you're telling me you're a pussy.”

“I guess so,” she said with a laugh. “Can you help me?”

“Fuck it, why not,” came Chloé's quick response. “Buy me another drink and I'll give you some tips.”

Marinette beamed.

The bar wasn't that busy that night. Marinette had originally been sat alone at the bar before Chloé had strutted over, and after half an hour, she was comfortable enough to buy a second drink and actually do more than sip it.

And with that, it turned into asking why Marinette was dressed like she wanted to hide every part of her skin.

She furrowed her brow. “It's cold.”

“You came here looking like you're going skiing,” Chloé replied, disgusted.

“I'm not that bad,” she protested, touching her turtleneck. “And my clothes are soft! Doesn't that count for something?”

Chloé was three drinks in, pointing to her clothes in horror. “Do you always dress like that?”

“Like what?” she asked.

“Like you have no shape.”

“I have enough shape to bring you over here,” she replied, a bit offended. “Can't you be nicer? I might cry.”

“I came over because you have a cute smile,” Chloé corrected. “I didn't realise you looked like a blob until I was right here.”

Marinette didn't know whether it was the drinks that were making Chloé so confident with her words, or if that was always her personality. She hadn't been able to tell from so far away.

She frowned. “That's good for my self-esteem, thank you.”

“Dress better,” Chloé demanded.

Marinette was a bit taken aback. “You barely know me?”

“You wanted tips to get a guy to like you, right?” Chloé reminded her, tossing her shiny blonde hair over her shoulder in a move that made the scent of her hair products waft over. It smelled nice, a sign that Chloé took care in her appearance. “Liking yourself is one part, but you also need confidence.”

She looked down at herself. “Do I not look confident?”

“You're hunched over like some sort of gremlin.”

Marinette straightened up.

“Too much,” Chloé said, putting a hand on her back and making her relax a little. “Don't even bother trying to, like, stick out your breasts when you barely have any in this outfit.”

“I wasn't trying to—”

“Your strength is your face, so do something about your hair,” Chloé started, looking at her critically with only slightly glassy eyes. The alcohol was starting to get to her. “And never wear that eyeshadow again. It looks dreadful.”

She touched under her eye. “It does?”

“It does nothing for your skin tone,” Chloé confirmed, nodding her head seriously. “If you've got the money, come see me at work and I'll help you out.”

“Work?” she asked.

And that was how she got recommended to go into a specific make-up store during the week. Chloé had given her which days she'd be there, telling her to ignore one employee if they tried to talk to her because they were likely to get fired soon for being bad. Chloé then told her that if she looked at least a little better dressed than she was that evening, she would get a discount.

To her surprise, Chloé's words weren't drunken ramblings.

It took Marinette over a week to work up the courage to go to the store.

Chloé recognised her on sight, snapping her fingers before pointing at her. “You!”

Marinette felt a bit self-conscious as the other employee looked between them with raised eyebrows.

She left with a bag full of make-up that had each been matched to her skin, eyeshadow that suited her eyes, and notes about which to use with which along with Chloé's phone number.

They met up at the same bar at the weekend.

“Better,” Chloé praised, reaching out and holding Marinette's chin to inspect the make-up. “A bit too heavy around your eyes, though. It makes you look older.”

“I'll try and do better next time,” she said.

“Don't buy any cheap shit,” Chloé advised. “And only wear the eyeshadow colours I told you to. You don't want to look like a clown because you wanted to dress up.”

“I can't wear colours like you?” she questioned, leaning in to peer up at Chloé. “Yours looks nice. It's glittery, too.”

“The colour wouldn't suit your brown eyes,” Chloé said.

She frowned. “Fine.”

Chloé demanded a drink in return for her hardwork.

Marinette had no complaints.

A friendship was struck from that; with Marinette awkwardly trying her best to pay attention to fashion and look better and Chloé begrudgingly acting as her mentor, as long as she got things paid for her in return. It wasn't a bad exchange when they got along well.

It became routine to meet up every weekend.

Marinette didn't question why Chloé wasn't seeing her other friends instead, not when their sudden friendship benefited her.

“You're so innocent,” Chloé accused, slurring her words slightly. “Why are you blushing at this? I'm just saying, dicks are _gross_.”

She spluttered, “T-that's nice?”

“It's not nice!” Chloé complained, throwing her hands up in exasperation. “I thought they were nice because I was lying to myself! Haven't you ever thought how weird they are?”

Marinette could only laugh. “It's not something I think about often.”

“Exactly!” Chloé jammed a finger into Marinette's chest, seeming to feel victorious. “That's for a reason.”

She replied, “I find it hard to think about even holding his hand, why would I imagine his dick?”

Chloé wrinkled her nose. “It's not worth it, trust me.”

“I'm not gay like you,” she said, patting Chloé's back. “Maybe I'll like his when I see it in person.”

“Please, you'll need to dress better to see that.”

“Really?” Marinette asked, looking down at her skirt. It was one of her best ones. “But my face is super pretty now. You even said so yourself.”

“If this guy didn't notice your face before, why would he now?” Chloé retorted, gulping down the rest of her drink before putting the glass down with enough force for it to make a sound. “He's a lost cause, move on.”

She shook her head. “No.”

“Why _not_?” Chloé demanded. “What use is pining after someone? It only makes you unhappy.”

“Are you caring about my happiness already?” she questioned with a smile. “That's sweet. You said you hated me last week.”

Chloé scowled. “I hate you with a passion to see you succeed.”

“...Thank you?”

“I've decided!” Chloé slammed her hands down on the bar. She winced a moment later, shaking her hands that were slowly turning red. “I'll help you get his attention, so you can turn around and tell him to fuck off.”

“I have no intention of doing that,” Marinette told her.

“It will be so _fun_ ,” Chloé continued on, ignoring her and clenching a fist. “Can you imagine his face is you tell him his dick isn't big enough for you?”

“I would _never—_ ”

“Big dicks are not everything,” Chloé proclaimed, passionate. “They're more trouble than they're worth, okay? I'm a hopeless lesbian, but I know _some_ things.”

She laughed. “You do?”

“Of course!” Chloé exclaimed. “My ex-boyfriend is, like, all of my experience with men, but it's enough.”

Marinette leaned forward, putting her elbows on the bar and resting her head in her hands. “You had a boyfriend?”

“Yeah,” Chloé confirmed with a grimace. “I was lost and confused and ended up in his bed. The worst decision of my life, clearly.”

She smiled. “Was it?”

“Absolutely,” Chloé said, nodding her head with more gusto than before. The alcohol was getting to her again. “I mean, he had the fucking _worst_ sense of humour? And he thought it was a compliment when I told him to fuck off instead of laughing at his jokes. It was so fucking annoying.”

It had been easy to pick up that Chloé tended to swear more when she was passionate about what she was talking about. There came the confusion for a moment—because Chloé had seemed so confident and sure of her sexuality, and yet, she was there talking about her ex-boyfriend with more enthusiasm than anything else the entire night.

“How long did you date?” Marinette questioned.

“Far too long.” Chloé scowled, trying to sort out her hair and only succeeding in making it look worse. After a few drinks, Chloé's immaculate appearance went downhill quickly. “I was a teenager, okay? It was a bad choice, just like what I chose to study at school. I made both mistakes at the same time.”

She asked, “Are you still in contact?”

“Hell, _no_.”

“No?” she persisted. “Not at all?”

“Blocked his number and everything,” Chloé happily confirmed, showing her an almost dopey-looking smile. “That dick's staying out of my life forever, okay.”

Marinette quietly asked, “Did he... hurt you?”

“His dick did,” Chloé replied without hesitation, not taking it seriously.

“You're talking about that a lot,” she observed.

“I'm helping you out,” Chloé insisted. “I've got the experience between the two of us.”

“So, what?” Marinette started, trying not to laugh. “You're going to tell me all about his?”

Chloé shrugged. “Eh, might as well.”

She blinked. “I was kidding.”

“And I'm not when I tell you it was this big,” Chlóe said, holding her hands up and squinting, trying to hold them an exact distance apart.

Marinette didn't know what to say.

Chloé looked at her before holding them a little bit more apart.

“I don't think that's accurate,” she pointed out.

“It's much more intimidating in person,” Chloé assured her.

She really tried not to laugh when Chloé had such a serious expression.

-x-

She was running late.

Marinette ran until the corner of the last street, putting a hand on her chest as she tried to get her breath back. And before entering the café, she used her reflection in the window to adjust her long hair and outfit to make sure that she looked presentable.

She hadn't run long enough to mess up her make-up.

Chloé's tips were hard to follow.

Marinette gave the barista, Rose, a polite smile, not having to give her order after coming for so long. She had the right about change ready to pass over, and wandered over to the other counter to wait for her drink to be brewed.

He came through the door when she sat down at her usual seat, taking her tablet out of her bag and getting her pen out.

To her amusement, he'd forgotten to brush his hair again.

She glanced up every now and then to see him leaning on the counter, chatting with Rose as his order was being completed.

The café knew what he wanted each morning, too.

Rose wished him a good day on his way out.

Marinette was able to pay more attention to her drawing after that.

It wasn't long until she realised she'd forgotten something.

“Could you look after my belongings for a bit?” Marinette asked Rose, pointing to where she was sitting. “I left something in my car. I'll be real quick, I promise.”

She got a thumbs up in response.

On the pavement outside, she noticed a set of keys on the floor. The keychain was one that she'd seen before.

She gave it in to the café when she came back.

It was almost two hours later when she was settled down with a fresh sandwich and another mug of coffee that he returned. Rose was surprised to see him back so soon before realising the keys belonged to him.

Marinette wiped the crumbs from her mouth, hoping that she looked presentable.

It proved to be a good choice when Rose pointed in her direction, surely telling him that she'd been the one to find them.

Her heart was beating fast, the fluttering nervousness something that she hadn't felt for a while.

He'd brushed his hair by then.

“Hi,” he greeted, coming to stand in front of her. “Thank you for finding my keys earlier.”

It was such a simple thing that he shouldn't have had to come and talk to her. Anyone else wouldn't have—they would've gone on with their day and thanked Rose instead, not asking who'd been the one to find them.

And yet, he was standing there, looking at her for more than the customary glance around the store like he usually did. Sometimes, he'd given her a polite smile if she'd caught her eye, but never _this_.

She didn't know whether she was lucky or not.

Surprisingly, her voice didn't shake as she replied, “No problem.”

The quiet sound of the music was drowned out by her heartbeat.

“I'm Adrien,” he said, offering her a smile that showed the dimples on his cheeks. It seemed genuine. “Do you live nearby? I see you here every morning.”

She was caught off-guard.

Of course he'd recognise her, right? It had been _months—_

Then, before she could reply, he hastily added, “Not that I'm asking in a creepy way! Don't answer that if you feel uncomfortable. I just—I was trying to make conversation.”

“I don't live nearby,” she blurted, setting her table down on the seat beside her.

There was a beat of silence.

And before she could panic that she'd said the wrong thing, he let out a laugh that didn't sound sincere in the slightest. “Oh, is that so?”

Marinette ended up saying, “I like that it's quiet here.”

“It is, isn't it?” he agreed, glancing to where there was only one other table occupied. “Does it get busier later on? You look like you're camped out here for a while whenever I see you.”

“It does,” she said. “I usually leave before noon to avoid it.”

Adrien looked to the large clock on the wall. “So... now?”

She was behind schedule.

Her sandwich was still half-eaten on the table and her drink was lukewarm.

She admitted, “Your keys set me back.”

Adrien laughed. “It's my fault that you'll have to deal with noise? My bad.”

She returned the smile shyly.

Then, to her surprise, he pointed to the chair opposite her and asked, “Can I sit down?”

Marinette questioned without a second thought, “Aren't you supposed to be at work?”

“It's my break,” he replied, flashing her a peace sign with his fingers. “I can go somewhere else if I'm bothering you—”

“No!” she exclaimed, face feeling a bit hot from how loud she'd spoken. “It's—you can sit down. It's fine.”

“Cool,” he said, sounding like he actually meant it. “I'll just order my food first, yeah?”

She swallowed. “Okay.”

While she'd known that her appearance looked better lately—so much so that even Rose had complimented her hairstyle the other day—she hadn't prepared to do more than look at him from afar.

The sight of his back as he ordered was one that she knew well, but not him turning around to give her a smile before he started trotting back over to her.

He pulled the chair out gently instead of scraping it across the floor.

Marinette's stomach twisted nervously, a sign that she'd only be able to nibble her food in front of him. She hadn't checked her teeth in the mirror before he'd come to thank her, so what if she had something in them—

“You never told me your name,” he mused.

He was so _pretty_.

“Marinette,” she whispered, tucking some stray hairs behind her ear.

Rather than wait for his order at the counter, he'd come over to sit with her. He liked Rose, asked about her hobbies while waiting for his drink in the morning, but he'd chosen to sit down over his usual routine.

She didn't try and hide her smile, the triumphant feeling almost smothering out her nerves.

“Marinette,” he repeated, getting the pronunciation right. “What do you usually do on your tablet? You're always scribbling away with your pen.”

Her chest felt warm from him noticing her, that feeling of happiness spreading and making her less tense than before.

He'd said he'd noticed her before, but she hadn't expected him to ask about that.

“Drawing,” she replied. “I come here to work before going back home. I wouldn't get any fresh air otherwise.”

“Yeah?” he replied with an encouraging smile. “No going into an office for you? I can't say I'm not jealous.”

Somehow, despite her giving nervous clipped responses at first, he wasn't put off by her attitude. Adrien ate his lunch while talking to her, using her hand to cover his mouth when he laughed with a mouthful, and his manners were something she'd thought she'd never see face-to-face.

It feel unreal that he was genuinely interested in what she had to say.

Marinette felt flustered.

He stayed until his phone vibrated with a warning that he had to get back to work.

His parting words to her were, “See you tomorrow!”

-x-

“He wants to fuck,” Chloé bluntly told her.

Marinette made a scandalised noise. “That's not—”

“He's sitting with you every morning,” Chloé pointing out, holding up one finger. She added another as she said, “He's turning up early to talk to you specifically and snubbing the barista that he's usually so friendly with.”

She stuttered out, “He's nice—”

“And you look fucking nice,” Chloé interrupted, giving her a look of appraisal. “You're wearing what suits you, right? Instead of looking like a lump.”

She took a sip of her drink. “Yes.”

“Great!” Chloé exclaimed, slapping Marinette's back and almost causing her to choke from the sudden movement. “Ask for his number. He's probably waiting to see if you're interested.”

“I can do that?” she questioned, wide-eyed.

“Why wouldn't you?” Chloé questioned. “There's nothing stopping you from being the aggressive one. Mark my words, the guy wants to bang.”

Her face felt hot. “That can't be it.”

“Listen, you useless heterosexual,” Chloé demanded, putting her hands on Marinette's shoulders. “Ask him out for dinner or something.”

“You said to ask for his number,” she rebutted. “Isn't that a bit extreme?”

“You're twenty-five,” Chloé reminded her. “If you want to jump into bed first, you absolutely can. There's nothing saying that you have to be friends first.”

“Chloé—”

“Ask him out and I'll take you to buy lingerie.”

She blinked. “What?”

“Your sense of style is shit, so I don't trust what's underneath your clothes,” was the response to that. “I'm helping you, remember?”

“My underwear's fine.”

“And your bra?” Chloé asked. “I bet it's old.”

“It's not _that_ old,” she denied. “And it's clean.”

Chloé snorted. “Yeah, that's not making me think it's any good.”

As it turned out, Chloé was as full of wisdom as she was crass.

When she asked Adrien for his phone number the next morning, blurting out the words loudly instead of greeting him, he'd looked so happy that she couldn't mistake it for being forced at all.

And it was when he was leaving, picking up his coffee in his takeaway cup that he'd been sipping each time but never finishing, she got the courage to ask, “Do you want to go to dinner with me?”

“I—yes,” Adrien stuttered out, caught off-guard. He touched the back of his neck, seeming to be shy. “I'd love to.”

He text her later that day to arrange the time and date.

It was for the weekend, so that gave her time to call up Chloé and admit that she was right.

Chloé was horribly smug.

They went shopping after Chloé was finished with work. Marinette set a limit of what she wanted to spend, but Chloé telling her that it would come in handy even if things didn't work out with him made her go over the budget and splurge on normal clothes as well.

Her bank account didn't suffer as much as her arms when she carried all the bags back to her place.

Friday was usually the last day she saw him until the follow week, but Adrien was able to say that he'd see her tomorrow again with a wide smile.

Her heart had stopped pounding nervously in her chest the more she saw his smile directed at her.

For two weeks, he'd sat with her in the café and actively made conversation. Marinette had loosened up, laughing more freely and understanding his personality more now that she was the one talking to him, and the happiness she felt from finally getting his attention was only diminished slightly from how awkward the small talk was over text.

Marinette tried her best to think through her replies before responding to him, trying not to scare him away. While their messages had stagnated and stopped after asking how each other's days were, that wasn't the case in person.

It was easier to talk face-to-face.

She turned up to the restaurant early.

He'd chosen the place, saying that it was one of his favourites.

She was familiar with the menu.

“You didn't wait long, did you?” he asked after jogging the last bit of distance between them, smoothing down his clothes and trying to look presentable. “I couldn't find a space to park.”

His blond hair was neatly styled, tamed compared to how sloppy he appeared in the mornings sometimes.

“You're on time,” she replied, tucking some stray hairs behind her ear. “I wasn't sure whether to go inside or wait for you here, so I'm glad you turned up now and spared me that meltdown.”

He laughed.

The restaurant wasn't too loud. Their table was in a good spot, their drinks arrived swiftly, and Adrien was happy to recommend a dish to her when she said that she wasn't a picky eater.

“So, Miss Artist,” he started, smiling in a way that showed his dimples. “What do you usually do at the weekends?”

She shrugged. “Nothing special. I either see some friends or go to visit my parents for a while.”

“You close?” he asked. “With your parents, I mean.”

“Yeah, definitely,” she confirmed, fondness clear in her voice. “I love spending time with them. I stayed in the city after graduating to be close to them.”

He whistled. “That's admirable.”

“Is it?” she questioned. “They're the only family I've got, so it's all I know.”

“It's good to be close to your family,” Adrien said, though he didn't mention anything about his own. He changed the subject instead. “What kind of things do you like to watch?”

Their taste in films and television shows were similar, though they disagreed on some finer details. Marinette was adamant that she hated anything that was too loud, either from explosions in action films or too many instruments all at once combined with pounding bass for music, while Adrien liked to drown everything out when he tried to relax.

“That's not relaxing at all,” she protested. “That's a headache waiting to happen.”

“A welcome headache,” he corrected. “If it's self-inflicted, it's fine.”

“That's a load of shit,” Marinette accused.

He looked delighted that she'd swore.

She shifted in her seat, feeling shy.

It turned out that Adrien could fill in the silence and talk when she didn't know what to say. He was more than happy to ramble about a topic he was enthusiastic about, a short response from her opening up a new torrent of his passionate speech, and she wasn't put off by that at all.

If anything, it was endearing.

And by the end of the date, she was sure that he liked her.

Marinette reached out to see the price of what they owed when he gently placed his hand on top of hers and said, “I'll do it this time.”

“This time?” she questioned, not pulling away.

“Is that too presumptuous?” he asked, looking at her in a way that could only be described as shy as his fingers brushed hers. “You can tell me to fuck off, if you want.”

She found herself comfortable enough to reply, “Maybe a bit when you can barely text me.”

Adrien was startled, taking his hand back as he stuttered out, “I— _that's_ —”

Marinette told him, “I deserve at least a good night text before we go on another date.”

He blinked.

And before she could wonder whether she'd messed up again, he laughed.

It was a genuine sound, not one of those breaths of amusement that he sometimes did when they were talking.

“Okay, I deserved that,” he said, brushing his hair away from his forehead. “I'll even send you a good morning text, how does that sound?”

She beamed. “Like you're promising too much.”

“We'll see,” Adrien replied, smiling back at her.

His ears were red.

-x-

“I'm sorry, I'm staying overtime today,” Adrien said, talking quietly over the phone. “We could go out another day? I don't want you to wait forever for me.”

“It's fine,” she replied, running her finger along the counter before inspecting to see if there was any dust. “If you don't think you'll be too tired, I'm okay with waiting. It's not like I have anything else to do.”

He exclaimed, “You have lots of things!”

“Not today,” she disagreed. “My plan was to lounge around in my pyjamas until you asked me out.”

Adrien sighed. “That does sound like fun.”

“This could be you if you didn't slack off,” she teased, crouching down to inspect a small cat ornament. It had a peculiar hat on. “What's your boss complaining about this time?”

“Oh, don't get me started,” he grumbled. “Seeing you later will be the endorphin rush I need to make this shitty day better.”

“Aren't you pretending to smoke right now?” she questioned. “Someone might overhear you badmouthing them and kick your ass.”

He snorted. “I'm safe, no one else smokes in my department.”

“And no one else knows you?” she teased. “You stand out, they'll tattle on you in an instant.”

With a laugh, he questioned, “I stand out?”

“You're tall,” she deadpanned.

“I was aiming for a compliment, but okay,” Adrien replied, nothing about his tone indicating that he was disappointed. “What are you up to now?”

“Taking a break for a bit,” she told him, touching the ceramic cat's nose with a smile. “I thought I'd look for some inspiration, you know? Clear my head and look at something new to try and get some creativity.”

He mused, “I can't even draw a stick figure.”

“People always say that,” Marinette remarked, amused. “What's up with that? It's, like, the go-to phrase to put yourself down. I'm sure your stick figures are charmingly ugly.”

He laughed loudly. “Charmingly ugly isn't something anyone's ever said to me before.”

“Well, I hope you'll remember it,” she replied, smiling widely. “I'm trying to leave an impression on you.”

“Oh, you're doing more than that,” he answered.

Then, there was a call of his name faintly coming through.

“Shit, I've gotta get back,” he muttered. “I'll see you later, okay?”

“Bye, Adrien,” she replied.

As he said he would, he text her more. It was awkward at first, anything past small talk not lasting more than a few responses, but there was more of an effort on his end.

He sent her a picture of his coffee cup when he made it to work, showing half the drink that he had left from sitting with her, to his lunch that he'd packed—that usually got squished from him not keeping it upright—to random things that brought a smile to his face.

Marinette responded in kind.

And so, by the time it was officially their second date—not counting all their coffees in the mornings—she had a real idea about his personality and what would appeal to him.

Plus, she'd had Chloé's help with clothes and make-up for the past months, making her feel more confident.

He picked her up after work.

Marinette didn't comment that he'd changed his clothes or that his hair was styled differently to when they'd seen each other earlier. There was effort put into his appearance that was purely meant for her instead of for work.

“You look nice for someone that died from overworking,” she greeted as she got into his car.

Adrien laughed. “I put concealer on.”

She smiled back. “Hiding your suffering, I see.”

“It's my secret,” he replied. “And now it's yours to keep. I'm trusting you, okay? You can't betray me already.”

“I'll think about it,” she said.

Adrien winked.

The restaurant they'd been planning to go to was full. There was the offer to wait outside in the queue for a while for a table to open up, though it was chilly.

It was a surprise when Adrien offered, “We could go back to my place?”

She looked at him, not sure on how to respond.

There was the dilemma of appearing too eager. Marinette didn't want to overwhelm him and cause a distance to be put between them—but she had no personal experience of dating to relate it to.

She didn't know what was appropriate.

“I mean, it's close?” Adrien added on, it coming out sounding like a question. “My place, that is. And I'm okay at cooking. I'm not the _best_ , but it's edible. And I have blankets if we get cold—”

More than anything, it was him that seemed eager.

Marinette beamed. “I'd love to.”

“Really?” Adrien asked.

His ears were red again.

It being because of her had that feeling of possessiveness becoming apparent, along with a rush of happiness that he was showing such things to her.

He wasn't someone that she looked at from a distance any more, and it was all on his terms.

“If you're comfortable with me there, sure,” she replied, adjusting her grip on her bag. “I wouldn't mind seeing where you live.”

The drive was barely five minutes from the café he frequented. Marinette recognised the road, taking in the view as she waited for him to lock the car before they entered the building, taking the elevator up to his floor.

Adrien ran his fingers through his hair before opening the door, making his nerves obvious.

Although, Chloé had told her what lingerie would look best, she didn't know how to get there naturally when there were feelings involved.

Then again, she hadn't asked for an in-depth explanation, too embarrassed at the time from Chloé's more outrageous choices of lingerie that she ended up rejecting.

She took her shoes off at the door at his request.

“What would you like?” Adrien questioned, walking to the kitchen. It was open, connected to the living room, with two doors along the wall for the other rooms. “To drink, first of all.”

“Anything's fine,” she replied, peering at the pictures on the wall.

They didn't have anything alcoholic.

Adrien came over, putting the glass on the coffee table by the sofa, sitting down and patting the space beside him, making what he wanted obvious.

Marinette smiled, obediently sitting down. “I like your coasters.”

“Same.”

“Well, that's good,” she mused. “Why would you keep something you don't even like?”

“Sentimental value?” he suggested. “I'm sure you've got stuff that is just... ugly, but you can't get rid of it. I mean, you wouldn't want to offend the person that gave it to you, right?”

She shrugged. “I guess? My friends have never been the type to give presents, though.”

“What about your parents?” Adrien questioned, adjusting how he was sitting to get more comfortable, ending up with their knees touching. “There had to have been some hit or misses there.”

“Oh, no,” she denied. “We're close. They always know what I want.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Always?”

“I love them very much,” she proclaimed, beaming.

Adrien smiled back. “That's cool.”

“What ugly thing have you got, then?” she asked, leaning forward to peer around him and inspect the room.

“Over there,” he said, pointing over his shoulder but not looking. “On the dresser between the bedroom and bathroom. It's this stupid ceramic cat that my mom bought me.”

“Well, it's seasonal,” she remarked.

“Don't even get me started,” Adrien complained. “You tell your parents your favourite animal one time and suddenly every gift is a _cat_. And seasonal cats, at that! I'm going mad.”

“Why did this cat get chosen to come?” she questioned, peering around to see if any of his other decoration were cat-related. “I don't see any others.”

He huffed. “It's the first one I got.”

She nudged him with her elbow. “Your favourite.”

“It is _not_ my favourite!” he protested, running a hand through his hair. “I love my mom, okay.”

“That's cool,” she said, meaning every word. “You love her enough to display this cool cat.”

“I'm starting to worry about you,” he muttered.

She tilted her head. “For supporting your weird tastes?”

“Yes, exactly,” he responded, raising his eyebrows. “Who knows what else you'll like next? It'll be even more horrifying.”

“That cat isn't horrifying—”

“That cat has lasted longer than any of my relationships,” he interrupted, jabbing his thumb over his shoulder to point to it. “I think it's cursed, actually. Maybe my mom's warding off everyone.”

She laughed.

“We can put something on for background noise, if you want,” Adrien offered, stretching out to collect the remote from the coffee table. “I'll only be, like, a metre away in the kitchen, but I doubt you want to watch me struggle for entertainment.”

“I thought you said you're good at cooking,” she mused.

Adrien snorted. “I said I'm okay.”

“Okay doesn't mean struggling,” she pointed out.

“Your standards are too high, then,” he replied with a smile. “I'm not _that_ bad, I swear. But I don't want you to be bored.”

She shyly said, “I'm here to spend time with you.”

“I—right.” Adrien cleared his throat, looking a bit flustered. “Yes, that's a thing.”

Marinette laughed. “We're a thing?”

His ears were red.

Adrien settled with turning the television on before he scurried off to the kitchen. To give him time to calm down, she stayed there for a bit, taking a sip of her drink and watching as the news came on the screen.

There was clattering in the kitchen as Adrien got out the pots and pans he needed.

Marinette wandered over, sitting on a stool by the island counter that he had instead of a dining table. The apartment was clean, organised neatly, and as he got the spices he needed out of the cupboard, she saw that everything was labelled correctly, even if they were put into new containers.

“Neat,” she said.

Adrien gave her a thumbs up.

The sound of the television was still audible from the short distance. Adrien cutting vegetables wasn't loud enough to drown it out, though the fan over the stove was almost able to accomplish that.

“ _A fifteen-year-old male was found dismembered this morning—_ ”

“Another?” Adrien murmured.

“Yeah,” she confirmed, putting her elbow on the counter and resting her head in her palm, getting comfortable to watch him. “It seems like every few weeks at this point.”

He sighed. “It's sad, that's what it is.”

“It happens everywhere,” Marinette pointed out. “It's not like this city is anything special.”

“You're a pessimist, got it,” he said with a nod.

“Am I?” she mused. “I think I'm realistic.”

“Realistically pessimistic,” he corrected, turning on the heat on the hob. “I like to think on the bright side, even if it means I'm disappointed all of the time.”

“That's sad.”

Adrien wasn't lying when he said he wasn't awful at cooking. He sat on the stool beside her after fetching his drink that he'd left behind at the coffee table, going as far as to provide her a napkin before settling down.

He came across as even more charming in his home.

There was something about seeing him where he was comfortable. He was dressed nicely, knew his surroundings well and wanted to show her the pictures he had of his family on the wall, and when they sat down on the sofa together, there was barely any distance between them.

Their thighs were touching.

She didn't jump when he placed his hand on hers as he leaned in to reply to her.

There was still the doubt about whether she could be forward and kiss him. She _liked_ him, a feat that couldn't be said about the people she'd been with in the past, but she didn't want him to back off because she'd moved too fast and scared him off.

It was hard to know what to do when his attention was suddenly on her. Marinette had been content watching him in the café in the mornings, seeing him smile to Rose as she scribbled away on her tablet, watching from afar.

All it had taken for that to change was finding something of his, apparently.

He'd been the one to encourage her to come to his home rather than stay at the restaurant and wait their turn.

She wetted her lips.

And with that, she noticed that his eyes had followed her movement, staring at her mouth.

It was that realisation that made her realise that, maybe, she wasn't the only one thinking hard.

They were close enough that if she tilted her head up, she could bump her nose against his by barely leaning into him. Her eyes went to his lips as well, noting that they weren't chapped or dry, before she looked up to see that his gaze still following her movements.

He kissed her first.

Marinette closed her eyes, leaning into his touch and responding in kind, her hand touching his arm as she shifted into a better position for both of them.

And as they kissed, his hand travelled further, inching underneath her skirt and touching the bare skin under there. Marinette didn't pull away, though she did make a noise of surprise. It was then that she put a hand to the back of his head, running her fingers through his hair and encouraging the kiss to be less hesitant.

He ran his tongue over her lower lip.

Marinette responded with equal enthusiasm, gently tugging his hair to see whether he'd like it.

He laughed and bit her lip gently in return.

It wasn't a nervous affair.

Adrien wasn't treating her like she was fragile; he was giving her the chance to push him away and reject his advances, his touches hesitant at first before they grew in confidence, enough so that his fingertips brushed against the edge of her underwear.

She was very glad that she'd bought them.

Marinette's form of encouragement that time was to shift and press into his fingers, making it so his touch was against the front of her underwear.

He didn't pull away.

Adrien slowly moved his fingers, applying pressure in the right place to cause her to make a noise of approval, putting her arms around his neck and leaning in so they were almost chest-to-chest. He rubbed his fingertips until she was sure he could feel the dampness of her underwear, making her shiver in pleasure.

She spread her legs slightly, giving him better access.

His fingertips trailed up to the waistband of her underwear, pushing her skirt up so it was bunched up around her waist, purposely trailing his nails across her skin before slipping underneath.

Adrien pressed a finger into her without hesitating.

She broke the kiss to bury her face into the exposed skin of his neck, closing her eyes as he gently thrust it into her before repeating the action carefully.

With a moan, she brushed her lips against his skin, leaving kisses as she shifted her hips.

Adrien added another finger.

She had no complaints about it.

It was his idea to move her so she was straddling his lap, far enough back that he could still reach down and continue his previous actions, while she had the chance to trail a hand down his shirt until coming into contact with his belt.

She was able to undo it without difficulty.

The button was another matter, however.

And when he laughed, she was able to feel his body shaking.

Her face felt hot. “It's _hard_.”

“Something else is, too,” he quipped.

She flicked his covered crotch.

Adrien's yelp was mixed in with his laughter.

When she managed to undo it, she had a triumphant grin.

He kissed her, stopping her from gloating.

She didn't palm him over his underwear; rather, she went beneath the waistband confidently, grasping him in her hand and hoped that she applied the right amount of pressure as she started to move her hand.

From the noises that left him, barely muffled by their kiss, it seemed that she was doing a good job.

His fingers started to move in her again.

Her breaths were coming quickly, the pleasure curling in her stomach becoming more and more apparent with every stroke of his fingers, and multi-tasking became too bothersome.

Adrien rested his forehead against hers, close enough for his warm breath to touch her skin, and his thumb started to graze against her sensitive part as his fingers continued to thrust inside her.

The only way to describe that moment was intimate.

It was his closeness that had that warmth in her chest expanding, the dopey-looking smile he gave her when she peered up at him making her feel breathless, and the kiss that he pressed to her cheek made her feel more than she could put into words.

All of his softness was meant for her—it was the two of them privately in his safe space where he'd welcomed her without hesitation.

And when she shuddered in pleasure, tensing around him for a moment before trying to regain her breath, the sound of him breathing in her ear was something that she'd always wanted to hear.

She hadn't stabilised her breathing before he finished.

Unfortunately, it got all over her clothes.

He sounded breathless. “I'm so sorry.”

His lips were reddened, his hair was a mess, and the colour that had appeared on his cheeks was all because of her. And from the close distance, she could see that he had blond on the ends of his eyelashes.

She couldn't put her happiness into words.

“Don't be,” Marinette responded, her voice the same as his. “This—it's nothing.”

“You can wear some of my clothes, if you want,” he offered.

She smiled. “Please.”

And it was then that he stuttered out, “Do you—do you want to stay over?”

She couldn't say no to that.

-x-

Adrien started to kiss her whenever they met.

After spending the night at his, they had breakfast before she left. Adrien had kissed her then, but she hadn't thought anything of it until the following day at the café. He'd bent down to press a chaste kiss to her lips before sitting down and continuing their usual routine of talking while waiting for his drink.

Then, he did the same on his way out.

Rose gave her a thumbs up.

Marinette's face had felt hot.

It had continued for the days after. They were texting a lot, arranging times to meet up either in the evening when he wasn't too tired from work or at the weekend, and it was him having prior plans with friends that had her meeting up with Chloé.

Chloé preferred to be informed in person so she could drink rather than responding by text.

“That's called dating,” Chloé said, slamming her empty glass down with too much force. “There's _no_ way you're fuck buddies.”

She frowned. “But he hasn't called me his girlfriend.”

“How stupid are you?” was the response to that. “And what the fuck? I thought you were a virgin, but now you're telling me all this—”

“I never said that,” Marinette interrupted.

“You did,” Chloé insisted, scowling.

She pointed out, “I said I had no experience.”

“That's the same thing!” Chloé threw her hands up in exasperation. “What did you expect me to get from that statement? I mean, you sounded like a kid when you asked how to get a guy to like you!”

“I've never been in a relationship,” Marinette corrected. “But I've slept with people. I have no experience in _romance_.”

Chloé raised her middle finger. “Sure, because that was fucking clear.”

“You didn't ask!”

“Choose your words better!” Chloé snapped.

“I'm bad at talking,” she lamely defended, pushing her short hair off of her face. “You know this.”

“I know that that eyeshadow looks bad for your eye colour,” Chloé retorted, squinting and leaning closer to get a better look. “I told you to avoid that.”

She touched her cheek. “You did?”

“Yes, it looks terrible.”

“Oh, that's a shame,” she said, frowning. “But does everything else look okay? I'm trying not to wear too much.”

“Yeah, it's simple enough to suit you,” Chloé confirmed, sounding almost smug. “Now if you do something about this boring haircut, you'll look even better.”

She laughed. “I like my hair.”

“It's blunt and boring.”

“My hair doesn't hold curls for long,” Marinette told her, running her fingers through it. “It's too straight. I used to obsessively braid it to try and get, like, any sort of curl to it.”

Chloé was still squinting. “Get a better cut, at least. This length isn't flattering.”

“I thought you were only a make-up expert,” she mused.

Chloé struck a pose. “I'm an expert at being beautiful.”

She laughed before buying more drinks for the two of them.

Adrien wasn't sympathetic about her hangover.

Then again, he was in much the same position. His voice was hoarse over the phone, sleepiness evident when he'd called hours after he'd usually wake up during the week, and Marinette had teased him that she'd already been up a while and had a shower.

“I'm jealous,” he moaned.

“Of me being clean?” she questioned.

“Of you seeing yourself all wet,” he replied, somehow able to not laugh while making such a statement. “I really liked it last time.”

Marinette laughed. “Adrien!”

“What? No good?” he got out through his own laughter. “I admit, that took a look of courage to say. I'm really, really bad at talking dirty. I hope you're not into it.”

“I'm into you,” she helpful told him.

He snorted. “That sounds kinda patronising, but okay.”

“I'm serious!” Marinette insisted. “I'm very into you. Why else would I be seeing you?”

“Because I'm hot?” Adrien deadpanned. “Everyone wants a hot boyfriend. I completely understand.”

There was that confirmation that Chloé was right again.

It had only been that nagging doubt that she could mess it up if she outright asked him if they were dating. Even if they'd ended up being friends with benefits, she would've been satisfied with his attention directed at her.

She replied, “You're not allowed a hot boyfriend.”

He let out an exaggerated sigh. “I guess I'll have to settle with you.”

“ _Settle_?” she exclaimed.

“I have decided to give you my attention,” he pompously announced.

Marinette hung up on him.

He sent a picture of him frowning.

She sent one of her smiling back.

And when he invited her over for dinner, she didn't reject him. Marinette said that she'd rearrange to see her parents the following day instead, causing him to protest and say that they were more important than him.

“It's okay,” she insisted, sure that her smile was clear in her voice. “They'll understand. Besides, I'll turn up with cake to appease them tomorrow. How could they reject me?”

He whistled. “Bribe me with cake any time you want.”

“Will cake let me stay the night?” she questioned.

He hummed. “I don't know...”

“It's good cake,” she assured him. “Really worth the time, I promise.”

“I suppose I'll accept it this once,” Adrien gave in with a forced sigh. “But I won't be this easy in the future, you hear me? And I don't kiss on the first date.”

Marinette laughed. “Okay, keep playing hard to get.”

“I'm hard to get until you give me buttercream,” he replied.

It was an impulse to say, “You better cream when you're hard later.”

Adrien's sudden laughter startled her.

“I regret that,” she blurted, face feeling hot. “Can we forget I said that? Please. I want to have some dignity still.”

“Absolutely not!” he exclaimed through his laughter, enjoying her embarrassment far too much. “That's the funniest thing I've heard all week.”

She winced. “You're laughing at my misfortune.”

“One's misfortune is another's opportunity,” he teased.

“I want to die,” she complained, running her hand over her face.

“Good news, I'll readily strip the next time you tell me a pun,” Adrien said, the amusement in his tone making her think that the pun might've been worth it. “It's the way straight to my dick.”

She muttered, “I'm supposed to be going for your heart.”

“Oh, you can do that, too,” he assured her. “But you've felt down there more than my chest, so—”

She hung up on him again.

Later, when she arrived at his flat and rung the doorbell, she shyly held out the wrapped up piece of cake that she'd bought at a bakery on her way there.

Adrien's response was to bow his head and announce, “You're staying the night.”

“Am I?” she questioned, taking off her shoes after she'd walked in. He'd added a small rug by the front door, a plush one that looked soft. “Maybe I don't want to.”

“You've got no choice,” he replied, happily accepting the cake and putting it into the fridge for later. “I'm locking you up and throwing away the key.”

“All because of one slice of cake?” Marinette asked with a laugh. “That treatment seems more appropriate if I bought you a whole cake.”

“That's marriage,” he joked.

She hummed. “Makes sense.”

“I think so, too,” he said, winking. “You're welcome to borrow some of my clothes if you didn't bring any.”

“I wasn't aware I was staying the night,” she pointed out.

Adrien wandered closer, pressing a kiss to her cheek while wrapping his arms loosely around her waist. “Good thing I like seeing you in my clothes.”

“I wore them _once_.”

“And you've only been here twice,” he replied. “We need to keep the theme going, yeah?”

She questioned, “Will you wear mine when you visit?”

He beamed. “If it'll please you.”

“I'll make sure you look pretty,” she assured him, resting her head against his chest, able to make out his heartbeat when neither of them spoke. “That won't be hard for you, though.”

“Buttering me up already?” he asked, pushing her hair behind her ear before cupping her jaw, making her look up at him. “You've barely taken your shoes off.”

“I did buy you buttercream,” Marinette reminded him. “You're supposed to be easy now.”

He laughed. “You do have a point.”

“Do I?” she asked.

Adrien's response to that was to kiss her.

She didn't put up any resistance.

Marinette happily wound her arms around his neck, the height difference between them making it so he leaned down instead of having her stand on her toes to try and make it even, and that little detail made her feel giddy.

It meant that he cared for her, didn't it?

It was the little things; the texts every morning and evening, him telling her all about his day and asking about her while actually caring about her answers, and how close he wanted to be in person when they were together. Adrien wasn't shy about being affectionate around other people, kissing her either on the lips or on the cheek in the café, making it obvious that they were together all of the time.

For a bit, she'd felt stupid for thinking they could've been anything but dating.

Adrien was too honest with how he felt.

And it was with them almost being chest-to-chest that she felt his erection.

His body was honest, too.

Adrien didn't get embarrassed about it.

Marinette pressed her hand against it, cupping him in her palm through his trousers, ever-so-pleased at the noise he made.

There was no rejection in his reaction; rather, he kissed her deeper, shifting his hips and encouraging her to continue her actions.

So, she did.

After untucking his shirt, Marinette managed to get the button of his trousers undone without hassle, sure he was able to feel her smile as he let out a breath of amusement, and pushed his trousers down to give her access to his underwear.

It was after pressing a chaste kiss to his lips that she pulled back and deliberately sunk down to her knees, tugging his underwear down with her before trailing down his exposed skin.

Adrien ran his fingers through her hair, spurring her on.

She grasped his arousal in one hand, the other resting against his thigh for support as she leaned in. After kissing the tip, she ran her tongue along the length of it before taking a generous amount into her mouth and applying the right amount of pressure to get him to moan.

Marinette peeked up at him, seeing him looking down at her with flushed cheeks.

She took him into her mouth, trying to relax her throat.

And when she'd pulled back, he'd closed his eyes, fingers holding onto her hair tighter.

She continued to actions, moving faster and causing more choked moans to escape from him, encouraged by each and every one. He wasn't doing anything more than holding her hair, wasn't trying to control how she was moving, and that little bit of control was making her more confident.

Her jaw started to hurt.

There were a few clumsy moments where she almost gagged, recovering by kissing the tip and giving her time before she took him into her mouth again, but Adrien never complained.

The first word he actually said during it all was her name.

She made an inquisitive noise around him, causing him to choke out another moan instead of talking.

His fingers tightened in her hair as he tugged, making it clear that he wanted her to stop, but she continued on, stubbornly seeing it through to the end.

She didn't choke when he shuddered.

Marinette swallowed, licking the tip to clean him up before pulling back, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand as she peered up at him.

His face was more flushed than before.

After making eye contact, Adrien buried his face in his hands. “You—you didn't have to do that.”

“I wanted to,” she replied, getting up and wincing from her knees hurting.

“It tastes bad,” he lamented with his voice muffled.

“It does,” Marinette agreed with a smile. “So I'm... going to get a drink.”

“Have the cake,” he suggested, finally letting her see his face again as he awkwardly tugged his clothes back on properly. He didn't tuck his shirt in again, though. “You deserve it.”

She split it in half with him.

Surprisingly, he didn't look that bad. His hair felt a bit greasy and there were some shadows under his eyes, but he'd washed his face and smelled nice. The casual clothes he had on were clean without any stains on them, too.

“You don't wear your pyjamas around the house?” she questioned.

“It makes it obvious I'm not wearing underwear,” was his response to that.

“So, wear some?” she suggested.

Adrien shook his head. “That defeats the purpose of staying in pyjamas, right? Might as well get fully dressed if I'm putting underwear on.”

“I shove on underwear and put my pyjamas back on,” Marinette replied. “They're comfier when I don't have to wear a bra.”

He grinned. “You don't have to wear a bra here.”

She raised her eyebrows. “No?”

“This is a bra-free zone,” he proclaimed, happily going over to where he had a whiteboard attached to the front of the fridge, taking the pen off the write that very phrase down. “There, now it's official.”

She pointedly looked at his crotch. “Don't you need some time to recover first?”

Adrien scoffed. “Are you calling me _old_?”

“Yes,” she bluntly replied. “You complained about your knees just this morning.”

“I complain about everything,” he retorted. “That's not proof of anything.”

“I think it's proof that you need time to recover,” she mused.

“Okay, fine.” Adrien crossed his arms, leaning back against the counter. “But just so you know I was like this when I was younger, too. It's not my old age catching up to me.”

She laughed.

It wasn't an immediate thing after that. They settled down to lounge in the living room instead, the two curled up on his sofa with the television playing a film that they could both agree on, idly talking over the important scenes and snickering from jokes and stories that they told about their childhood.

Marinette was open about her embarrassing stories from how awkward she'd been. Although she insisted that she was better now, there were still some instances where she clammed up and reacted differently than anyone else.

And Adrien didn't laugh at her throughout all of it; it was with her, even telling her about his own embarrassing moments that had happened in the mornings sometimes when he'd stayed up late at night and had been too groggy to pay attention properly.

It was a wonder he'd gotten such a good job when he was so irresponsible.

“It's luck,” he stated proudly. “I'm really lucky.”

“Are you?” she asked.

“In weird ways, yes,” Adrien confirmed with a thoughtful noise. “I mean, it's not like I'm praying to some god to make things happen, but good things _do_ happen.”

“Give me an example, then,” she suggested, leaning into him and resting her head on his shoulder. “Brag some more.”

He laughed. “It's hardly bragging when it's true.”

“Is it?”

“It is,” he insisted. “Am I bragging when I tell my friends about you? Well, maybe a bit.”

And instead of trying to put her feelings into words to respond to that, Marinette buried her head into his neck and hugged him.

Adrien wound his arms around her waist, pulling her into his lap and making it so they were more comfortable.

“Here's a horrifying example,” Adrien mused. “I had this kid that always bullied me, you know? He did all the usual shit of stealing my homework and, like, snipping the laces of my running shoes when they were in my locker. The kind that never went to physical but it was still _annoying_.”

The thought of Adrien having to deal with that made her angry.

She frowned. “Okay.”

“Well,” he started, resting his head on top of hers, close enough that he could sniff her hair. “I was running away from him on my way home one day, then I found out the next morning that he'd been hit by a car.”

The breath caught in her throat. “...A car?”

“Yeah,” he confirmed. “Apparently he tripped while trying to follow me?”

“Apparently,” she repeated.

He shrugged. “There wasn't really anyone else there. The guy broke a load of bones and didn't return to school until the end of the year.”

“Did he bully you again?” she questioned.

“No, he left me alone,” Adrien assured her. “We never had anything to do with each other after that—went to different schools and everything. I wonder how he is.”

“Don't wonder,” she muttered. “He doesn't deserve to be thought about.”

He hummed. “Yeah, you're right.”

“The teachers allowed that?” Marinette asked, frowning against his neck. “That's—”

“It's not like they could really stop him when there wasn't much evidence?” Adrien replied, making it sound like a question. “It wasn't like he was leaving bruises on me all the time or whatever. I mean, yeah, he said some awful things to me, too, that the teachers would tell him off for if they ever overheard, but there's only so much they can do.”

She admitted, “I was homeschooled.”

“Really?” he asked. “What was that like?”

“The only bullying was getting me out of bed in the morning,” she joked.

“And you still love your parents so much,” he mused. “It must've been a good school.”

Marinette laughed. “The best.”

“I'm jealous,” he said. “You really seem to love them.”

“Whenever you say that, it makes it seem like you hate yours,” she pointed out. “It's not that bad, right?”

“I wouldn't say that,” Adrien said, leaning back and smoothing out her hair with his hand. “It's more—I see them for special occasions? We're not close enough for me to just go over there for dinner or something.”

She whispered, “Sad.”

“A bit, I guess,” he agreed. “But that's just how it is? I mean, my dad made it clear that I'd be out of the house as soon as I turned eighteen, so it wasn't a surprise.”

She grumbled, “He sounds like a dick.”

Adrien laughed loudly. “Yeah, maybe a bit. My mom could talk him down for some things, but he always has to get his way or he throws a tantrum. It's okay, I don't miss walking on eggshells like back when I was living there.”

Marinette sat upright so she could see his face. “And now you can live in a bra-free zone. ”

“Is it?” he questioned, pointedly looking at her chest.

Her response to that was to take her shirt off and place it on the arm of the sofa before reaching behind to undo her brassiere.

Adrien stared at her the whole time, his hands gently placed on her waist.

She put the brassiere with her shirt.

“It's nice to see someone following the rules,” he mused, trailing a hand up along her side before cupping one of her breasts, his thumb trailing over her nipple. “It took you a while, though, so I'm not giving you a gold star.”

“I didn't know there were potential gold stars involved,” she replied. “I would've stripped faster.”

He tutted. “That's your fault, not mine.”

“Mine?” she asked. “Make your rules clearer, dude. I didn't realise there were rewards.”

Adrien pinched her nipple. “I'm giving you one already.”

She made an appreciative noise. “Yeah, but this pales in comparison to a gold star.”

“What if I do this?” he questioned, taking a nipple into his mouth to suck and run his tongue over it before stopping, allowing his breath to touch where he'd been caressing. “Well?”

She breathed out loudly. “Maybe.”

“Maybe?” he asked, pressing a kiss to the damp spot. “That's not a very good answer.”

“Do it a bit more so I can be sure,” she encouraged, running a hand through his hair and tightening her hold on the strands in a way she knew he liked.

He did.

Marinette had her arms around his shoulders, moaning as she shifted closer until she could feel his arousal pressed against her own, and arched her back to give him better access to her breast. For the one that he didn't have in his mouth, he was using his thumb and finger to pinch her nipple, stimulating her on both despite paying one the most attention.

She had no complaints about his actions.

It was a smart idea to wear a skirt over to his again.

Rolling her hips against him, getting him to do the same until they were rutting against each other with their clothes on still, she was aware that she was breathing heavily and not trying to be coy in the slightest.

Her underwear grew damp.

Adrien gave her a smile that reached his eyes as he asked, “What about now?”

She shifted her hips against him. “What do you think?”

He kissed her breast. “I think you should come to bed with me.”

“Oh, do you now?” she breathed.

He winked. “For a bigger reward.”

Marinette laughed loudly.

“Don't laugh,” he complained, though he was laughing himself. “I'm trying to be sexy here.”

“You're very sexy,” she assured him, brushing his hair away from his face to rest their foreheads against each other. “Seeing you is a good enough reward for me.”

“Okay, it's getting a bit weird now,” Adrien said, still laughing. “Can I ask you to have sex with me without making it weird? Please.”

She teased, “I don't know, can you?”

“ _Marinette_!”

“What? You haven't asked,” she reminded him, touching the end of his nose with hers. “How am I supposed to know what you want if you don't tell me? I can't read your mind.”

He pouted.

“Come on,” she said in a sing-song voice.

He sighed. “Sleep with me.”

She laughed. “No.”

His ears had reddened. “No?”

“It wasn't a question,” she pointed out.

“Marinette,” Adrien started, taking her hands into his own and trying to keep a straight face. “Will you do the honour of sleeping with me?”

She grinned. “Beside you?”

“Having sex with me,” he corrected, glaring at her.

She laughed.

Instead of waiting for a response, he awkwardly tried to pick her up, struggling when she flailed from the sudden movements. She hit him on the chest, demanding to be put down, and he laughed while trying to get a better grip on her.

“I can walk!” she exclaimed.

When she hit him again, Adrien gave in and set her down. “Fine.”

They'd only made it a few steps away from the sofa.

Marinette huffed, smoothing out her skirt before making her way into his bedroom. The duvet was messy, as it had been the last time she'd stayed over, though the rest of the room was clean with everything tidied away into the right places.

She flopped down on the bed, her back against the mattress.

Adrien wasn't subtle about his intentions.

He climbed on top of her, knees on either side as he wasted no time in kissing her again. With one hand beside her head for support, the other trailed down to her breast, teasing her nipple once more.

She leaned into his touch, welcoming every bit of it.

And as they kissed, he leaned in with his lower half to rub his arousal against hers again.

Marinette was the one to fumble down there and undo his trousers, reaching into his underwear to grasp onto his erection. He moaned into her mouth, not protesting her movements whatsoever; instead, he put more pressure onto her nipple, twisting it as she started to move her hand on him.

It wasn't long before he was pushing her skirt up and dipping beneath her underwear, touching her clit for a moment before his finger delved into her, making her feel breathless from the contact. Marinette tightened her hand around him, breaking the kiss to lean forward and bury her face into his neck, able to feel his breaths against her hair.

He added another finger.

The building pleasure inside her was becoming more and more apparent. Marinette squirmed, leaning into his touch and arching her back, and the noises escaping her matching his.

It was wild to think that she knew what pleased him after seeing each other for so little time; that she knew how his facial features twisted as he released, and that how her name sounded from his lips when it was combined with a moan.

She never thought she'd get that far.

And with each breathy moan that left him, she was spurred on, wanting to hear more.

Adrien was the one to tell her to wait, his actions not matching his words when his thumb was brushing against her clit and stimulating her.

“Wait?” she questioned, lightly biting his neck.

He moaned.

It was with reluctance that he took his hand away, batting hers away from his erection playfully. Marinette pouted, making her displeasure obvious, but that changed when he clumsily reached out for the bedside table and took out a box of condoms from the drawer.

She gave him a thumbs up.

Adrien grinned.

And as he did that, Marinette took the rest of her clothing off, folding it neatly like she'd done with her other clothes she'd left in the living room, setting them down on the floor.

Adrien was sat on the edge of the bed, taking his time trying to roll it down properly.

So, she helped out, tugging his trousers off and making him laugh.

He took his shirt off himself before turning to look at her with a smile that showed his dimples. “How do you want to do this?”

“You're asking me?” she questioned, amused.

“I want you to be comfortable,” he replied, reaching out and tucking some stray hairs behind her ear. “I'm cool with whatever.”

She patted the mattress.

Adrien didn't complain in the slightest. He moved so he could have his head on the pillows, his back against the mattress after he'd kicked the duvet down to be at the bottom of the bed.

It was a little chilly. After she'd straddled him, sitting on his thighs with his erection pressing against her, Marinette pulled the duvet up and over her shoulders, smiling as he laughed and called her cute.

His hands settled on her waist, one trailing up to touch her breast and caress her nipple that was jutting out from the cold.

With her weight on her knees, Marinette had one hand on his thigh for support while the other grasped his erection, guiding it between her legs as she sat up. She held her breath as it was lined up with her, sinking down on it without hesitation, wincing at the feeling of being filled.

His hands both went back to her waist, nails digging into her skin as he sucked in a sharp breath.

“Give me a minute,” she said, leaning into him so they were chest-to-chest, pressing their lips together.

Adrien kissed her with enthusiasm; fast and conveying all the things that he couldn't say.

The loud noises that came weren't from either of them.

Marinette was startled by the sudden banging and raised voices—shouting, words almost able to be made out, combined with loud footsteps.

“Fuck,” Adrien complained, breaking their kiss to bury his face in his hands. “They're—they won't stop for a while.”

She blinked. “What?”

“It's my neighbours,” he explained, wincing as more shouting was heard, a different voice that time. “They're... loud.”

It was such an absurd situation.

Any of the romance that had been there had died out. Marinette was sat awkwardly on top of him, his still hard arousal inside of her, but there was no overwhelming feeling of wanting to be close to him any more. It had all been drowned out by the angry shouting coming through the walls.

Adrien was in much the same position.

“I'm just—” Marinette climbed off of him with a wince, flopping down beside on the mattress, turning so she could face him. “How often does this happen?”

“Quite a lot,” he admitted. “And it's even worse when they're having sex. Their bedroom is right beside mine, so I can hear the bed slamming into the wall.”

She laughed.

“I'm sorry,” he said, taking one of her hands into his own. “I didn't—I didn't expect this to happen.”

How could she be mad when he was looking at her with such a soft smile?

She quietly assured him, “It's not your fault.”

He kissed her hand.

Marinette's chest felt warm despite the disappointment that they couldn't continue.

-x-

Her parents were overjoyed for her.

“Sweetheart, that's great news,” her mother gushed, pulling her into a hug and smoothing out her hair. “No wonder you look like you're glowing.”

“That's highlighter,” she happily told her. “I learned how to do my make-up properly.”

“Oh, you should teach me,” came the response to that. “I'd love to dress up and surprise your father.”

Marinette smiled. “I can do that! I learned what looks good for brown eyes, too.”

She'd inherited a lot from her mother—the black hair, the shape of her eyes and most of her facial features—but the colour of her eyes was from her father's side. Her parents had always said that she was pretty, but the recent months with the advice from Chloé had upped their compliments.

It was a little embarrassing how they loved to boast about her to anyone that listened.

“Sabine, is she here?” her father called as he came down the stairs, most of the steps creaking when weight was put onto them. “I thought I could hear an angel.”

“Dad!” she complained. “That's not cute any more!”

“You'll always be cuter,” he teased, reaching out to pat her cheek.

“Tom,” her mother scolded, laughter ruining any chastisement there could've been. “She's got a boyfriend now, you can't embarrass her.”

Marinette was sure her grin was dopey.

Tom whistled. “Do you now? I'm not sure you're old enough for that, kiddo.”

She snorted. “I'm twenty-five.”

“You'll always be our baby,” Sabine assured her, smoothing out Marinette's hair again and adjusting her t-shirt to make it look more presentable. “Why don't you tell us more about him?”

“Well—”

“That we don't already know,” Tom interrupted, guiding her over to the sofa and putting his hands on her shoulders to make her sit down. “I want the juicy stuff.”

“Don't call it juicy,” Marinette complained.

Sabine laughed. “It's juicy to us, Marinette. We care very much about your life.”

Her face felt hot. “Thank you.”

“Thank us by telling us more!” Tom encouraged, sitting down beside her as Sabine sat on the arm of the sofa, sitting closely and looking at her with a smile. “Do you have any other pictures together? I already made the one from before my phone background.”

She stared. “You _didn't_.”

“Of course I did,” he replied, happily getting the device in question out and showing her the illuminated screen.

It really was the picture of her and Adrien together, their cheeks touching as they smiled at the camera.

She couldn't put into words how much their support meant to her.

So, she'd bought them a cake instead.

They ate that instead of dinner, chattering around the dining table with hot drinks for each of them. Marinette laughed loudly at some of the things they told her, catching up on what she'd missed from being busy, while they hounded her for more details about her relationship.

She blushed a lot.

Tom cooed and kept calling her adorable.

And when Adrien sent a text to ask how she was doing and whether she'd be back to meet in the café in the morning, Sabine gushed about how cute they were together.

Marinette left early enough the next morning to be able to see him in the café.

She was lucky enough to turn up when he was in the queue, sneaking up behind him and wrapping her arms around his waist.

Adrien yelped at first, caught off-guard, before he returned the hug with a happy laugh.

Rose was laughing behind the counter at them.

Her tablet had been left at her home, so they decided to walk to the parking lot and sit in his car until he had to leave. Marinette carefully put both of their drinks in the holders at one point to lean over and kiss him properly, more than the chaste peck he'd given her in the café.

Her lipstick had smeared on his mouth.

Marinette wiped it off after kissing him again. She held his chin and carefully corrected it, noting that he hadn't put concealer on that day.

“You look nice,” she said.

“I didn't think I was going to see you,” he muttered. “I would've worn something nicer.”

She beamed. “I'd prefer to see you in nothing.”

To her delight, he looked a bit embarrassed at that.

She tidied his hair with her hand before getting out of the vehicle to let him go to work.

When he'd gotten there, he sent a picture of her coffee that she'd accidentally left in his car.

She said he could have it.

So, of course, he sent a follow up picture of him taking a sip from it.

Marinette laughed.

Things were going smoothly in their relationship, she thought. He was interested in what she had to say along with her body, and Marinette's concerns about going too fast were written off when he was just as eager to do everything with her.

By lunch, he'd already arranged to see her for a date that evening.

She had no plans.

He never remarked on how free her schedule was.

Then again, they'd only been talking for a little less than a month. He still needed some time to grasp what was normal for her, though she'd made it quite obvious that she didn't see her friends often.

She'd fill Chloé in on what was happening when they saw each other at a later date.

For the time being, Marinette was pleased with what had happened. The fact that Adrien wanted to see her, so much so that he texted all of the time to see what she was doing, was still something that she was coming to terms with.

Being able to touch him intimately was also hard to process.

It was almost intoxicating whenever they were together.

Marinette had a skip in her step as she entered the building, swinging the key around her finger.

“Who are you?”

The plan had never been to talk to anyone.

She frowned, looking over her shoulder to see who had spoken. It was a middle-aged man that had wandered back down the hallway with his slippers on, an indication that he lived there.

Ignoring him, she unlocked the door.

It turned out that she couldn't walk inside and shut the door behind her to make it obvious that she didn't want to talk. Instead, a foot wedged itself in the door as the man continued, “Aren't you supposed to be nice to your elders? I asked you a question.”

And instead of answering that, she promptly kicked his shin hard enough for him to make a noise of pain and take his foot back, allowing her to shut the door and promptly lock it.

He started knocking instead, shouting at her.

She recognised the voice from that.

Marinette cracked the door open to ask, “What do you want?”

“You live here?” the man questioned, red in the face but not making any aggressive moves towards her. “Look, I just want to apologise for the other night. It wasn't as bad as it sounded.”

He wasn't going to complain that she'd assaulted him first with the kick, then.

She bluntly told him, “I'm not going to call the police.”

He let out an audible breath. “Yeah?”

“Sure,” she agreed. “It's not my problem.”

“You sure?” he continued, scratching his cheek. “The boy you live with has other opinions. He's called them on us before.”

There was nothing about Adrien that would make him seem younger than he was; he'd grown into his body, facial features suiting his age, and he was well-spoken.

“Boy?” she questioned.

“Yeah, you know.” The guy gestured above him with his hand. “The tall one? He's awfully quiet.”

She muttered, “How about I won't call the cops if you don't treat him like a kid?”

The man raised his eyebrows. “What?”

“You came here for a reason, right?” she pointed out. “Putting my boyfriend down isn't going to make me think you're a good person.”

“I don't care about that,” he said with a dismissive wave of his hands. “I just want to make sure the police aren't going to get involved _again_. It was a pain in the ass last time.”

Adrien had said that the arguing happened a lot. And from looking at the man, the scratches on his arm didn't look self-inflicted, painting a not-so-healthy picture in her mind.

“Keep the noise down, then,” she retorted.

He scowled. “You threatening me?”

“No,” she replied, honest. “I'm giving you a helpful suggestion. I won't have to get involved unless I hear screaming, yeah?”

“There wasn't _screaming_.”

She snorted. “My apologies, it was hard to tell whether that yelling was from pain or not.”

He spat on the floor.

It felt like time had stopped for a bit. Marinette could only stare down at the suddenly dirty floor, the glob of saliva that had splattered on it standing out. She thought of how Adrien avoided wearing his shoes inside because he wanted to keep it clean and presentable.

And yet, that had been ruined in a matter of moments.

Her reaction wasn't rational.

Marinette kicked the man between the legs, causing him to collapse with a pained noise. She tugged him forward, pressing his face against the floor where the spit was before grabbing a nearby shoe, slamming it repeatedly into the man's head as he squirmed and cried out in pain, hands covering his head and trying to stop her from hitting him.

Something splattered on her face.

Her breaths were coming out fast by the time the man stopped struggling.

His nose was broken, face covered in blood that had leaked out onto the floor and ruined it further, and she dropped the shoe and stared at the red on her hands.

The blood smeared as she dragged the body in, shutting the door and preventing anyone from seeing what she'd done.

Her hands didn't shake as she retrieved her phone.

Marinette wiped her hand on her clothes before calling the number.

“Mom,” she whispered, closing her eyes. “I... I messed up.”

-x-

The start of the week was when Adrien was the least tired.

As the days continued on, they didn't arrange to meet up in the week unless he'd had a somewhat good night's sleep or a bad day. It was never her pestering him to meet up; rather, Adrien would text when he was still working, saying that he needed to see her face in person to cheer up.

He was really cheesy.

She hadn't thought he'd be like that before.

But when he did something cute like kiss her forehead or the end of her nose out of nowhere, she was reminded that his affection was directed at her at that moment. She didn't know what she'd done to deserve it, not when finding his keys had led to all of the sudden kisses, but she wasn't going to complain.

It was the change of events that she needed.

Everyone that she interacted with regularly remarked that she was happier lately.

She wondered whether Adrien was being asked the same thing.

It was a routine to go to his place. Marinette's excuse had been that she hadn't invested in a double bed yet, so he was more than happy to offer the services of his own. It helped that he enjoyed cooking dinner for the both of them, too.

Her compromise was to buy the ingredients.

It seemed that any time that they were alone, they couldn't keep their hands off of each other. It wasn't the gentle kisses in public nor the innocent hand-holding that happened when they walked down the street; rather, it was intimate, never too rushed, and always made her happy that she'd decided to wear nice underwear when she saw him.

Chloé's advice was really paying off more than she thought it would.

“You're my first relationship,” Marinette pointed out one evening.

Adrien smiled so wide that he had crinkles in the corner of his eyes.

He wasn't put off by it at all—nothing she seemed to do made him think of her negatively, it seemed. Adrien responded to her weirdness with his own, his jokes matched hers well, and even when she couldn't tell puns without them coming out horribly forced, he seemed to appreciate all of her.

It made her crave more of him.

There was that possessive feeling that she wanted all of him.

He never pushed her away.

Marinette sat on his lap, wound her arms around his neck and kissed him with a passion that hadn't been there a moment ago, and he didn't question it in the slightest. He responded in kind, heartily returning the kiss and holding her close, and that feeling of want within her blossomed from their close proximity.

He was everything she hadn't known she wanted.

Sometimes, she'd wondered from afar what it would be like to have him laugh at something she'd said. And yet, she was in the position where his face would be twisted from pleasure, that he'd be moaning from her movements and would smile at her in a way that made her heart squeeze in response, and she had trouble connecting to the moment and realising that it was all because of her.

Everything was for her, now.

He didn't complain when she left a love bite on his neck.

“Am I a teenager?” he asked with a laugh.

The following morning, he was wearing a turtleneck to hide it.

He adjusted it while smiling at her from across the café.

When she went to his flat that evening, he was in a t-shirt instead. The heating was on inside to keep it warm, so she slipped off her coat and hung it up before locking the door.

Adrien trusted her enough to leave his door unlocked for her to let herself in.

“Whatcha making today?” she questioned.

He shrugged, opening up the fridge and peering inside.

She closed the distance to hug him from behind, sighing in relief. “I missed you.”

“You saw me this morning,” he mused.

“I missed you in the kitchen,” she corrected.

“You can say you missed my cooking, it's okay,” he teased, ruffling her hair before he turned around to face her. “I looked up a few recipes and they've got good reviews. Want to pick one?”

It was okay in the end.

Marinette ate too much, complaining as she slouched on the sofa, holding her stomach.

“I ate more than you,” he said, poking her.

She slapped his hand away. “I'll be sick if you jostle me.”

“No sex, then?” he joked.

“You have to wait forty minutes after eating,” she replied matter-of-factly.

Adrien laughed. “Isn't that swimming?”

“It's what I say it's for,” she muttered, shooting him a glare. “For real, I can't ride your dick like this. I'll throw up.”

He snickered.

They put on the television, idly watching a show that they'd both enjoyed when they were kids. Marinette slumped against him, complaining that she'd ate too much every time that she moved, while Adrien rubbed her stomach and was teasing her for her dramatics.

“Stop,” she lamented.

“I'm helping,” Adrien insisted, his hand underneath her dress to rub her bare skin. “It's my fault you chose to wear a dress. Clearly, the idiot here is you, not me.”

She huffed. “I never called you an idiot.”

“I can see the insults in your eyes,” he teased, using his free hand to flick the end of her nose. “All those evil things that you can't say to me. I'm very aware of them.”

“Oh, are you?” she questioned, swatting his hand away. “You should know you're only making them worse, then. I'll throw away your favourite things when you're asleep for revenge.”

“Have you done that already?” he asked, no seriousness in his voice. “I can't find my favourite pair of shoes.”

She squinted. “How can you lose _two_ shoes?”

“That's my question!” he exclaimed, gesturing around the room. “I thought that I moved them when I was cleaning, but I have no bloody idea where I put them. I think I'm going mad.”

She patted his thigh. “There, there.”

He stuck his finger in her navel.

Marinette yelped, squirming away from him.

“Sorry, sorry,” he said through his laughter, not sounding sincere in the slightest. “I know you hate that. I'll stop.”

“Stop rubbing me altogether,” she complained.

“I'm helping!” he insisted, going back to rubbing circles on her stomach. “This is good for digestion, right? My mom used to do this when I was younger.”

She scrunched up her nose. “I don't know.”

“Well, it feels like I'm helping,” he decided. “I get the gold star today.”

“I'll kick you,” she threatened.

Adrien winked. “I like a girl who can kick my ass.”

Her response to that was to copy him, slipping a hand underneath his shirt before starting to rub, staring into his eyes the whole time. He tried not to laugh, his lips wobbling from attempting not to smile, and she lasted longer than him before he burst into laughter and finally took his hand away from her stomach.

“Okay, it's a bit weird,” he said, giving in. “Especially with the eye contact.”

“A bit,” she agreed, continuing to rub wide circles into his skin. Then, her fingers trailed over a raised bit of skin around his abdomen. “What's that?”

Adrien lifted up his shirt for her to see. “A scar.”

“A scar,” she repeated, furrowing her brow. “I didn't notice this before.”

“It's not that big,” he said, gesturing towards it. “And before you ask, I didn't have surgery.”

She blinked. “I wasn't going to.”

“No?” he questioned. “Everyone else always want to hear the story behind it.”

She went back to rubbing his stomach.

Adrien laughed. “Stop, it's weird!”

Marinette stared at him and did it.

He slapped her hand away, laughing.

She hugged him instead, resting her head on his chest before bringing her hand up to touch the scar. It was barely an inch wide, a line of raised skin that hadn't healed over properly.

“I got stabbed,” he helpfully told her.

She couldn't take her eyes away from it.

“I can't really tell you why,” he continued on, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “My wallet didn't even get stolen or anything. Maybe I pissed her off?”

“Her?” she asked.

“Well, I think it was a her?” Adrien contemplated. “It's a bit foggy. I could only tell the police it was someone with braids in, so that didn't really narrow it down. To this very day, they might be lurking in the shadows and waiting to stab me again.”

Marinette laughed. “You're dramatic.”

A small event like that had left a scar on him that he'd told anyone who asked; anyone that had seen him shirtless and admired his body must've noticed it and heard the story.

She swallowed.

“I've never broken a bone, but I've been stabbed,” he mused. “That's not common, right?”

“You're very special,” she told him, trailing her finger over the scar.

He laughed. “Are you seducing me?”

“Maybe,” she replied.

“It's been over forty minutes,” he helpfully told her.

“Oh, in that case,” Marinette said, sitting up and already going to unbutton his trousers. “I should show you how special you are in another way.”

He kissed her instead of replying.

And after they broke apart, Marinette stared into his eyes as she undid his belt before trailing kisses down past his jaw, to his neck, before pushing up his t-shirt to access his chest and work her way down. She glanced up at him before kissing his scar, running her tongue along it before dipping lower, pulling his underwear down and taking him into her mouth.

Adrien made an appreciative noise, his fingers making it into her hair and grasping lightly, making her aware of his presence there.

Careful not to catch her teeth on her skin, she relaxed her throat and took as much of him as she could, getting more and more comfortable with the actions. She'd started to know which parts Adrien was most sensitive at; where he liked to be touched all over his body, and the parts that he enjoyed being kissed on.

He moaned.

With her hand around the bottom shallowly moving to make up for the part she couldn't take in without making her eyes tear up, she sucked at the tip and drew another moan from him.

“ _An unidentified body was discovered this morning. It's presumed to be a man in his late forties—_ ”

His face was flushed when she looked up.

Adrien tugged at her hair as he told her to stop in a breathy voice. And unlike when he'd tried to get her to do that before, she listened, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand as she took in the change in his expression.

He was smiling at her brightly.

It made her feel warm.

There was that obsessive feeling that it was all for her; that his rumpled clothes were her doing, the reddened lips had been from their kissing, and his expression was something that only she would see.

She kissed him again.

Adrien didn't try and pick her up to get her to go to the bedroom that time.

She followed after him, unzipping her dress before pulling it over her head, putting it on the chair by the desk in the bedroom. Adrien wasn't as tidy with his clothing; throwing it over the floor in his haste before opening the bedside drawer, taking out another condom.

Marinette flopped on his bed, naked.

“If we get interrupted again, I'll kill myself,” he proclaimed as he started to put the condom on.

She laughed. “That's a bit dramatic.”

“Oh, you haven't seen dramatic yet,” he assured her.

Marinette turned and rolled over until she was on her front beside him, elbows on the mattress and her hands supporting her head as she watched his movement.

“Shut up, this is hard,” he told her.

She snickered. “I didn't say anything.”

“I'm not good with slippery things,” he complained, making a triumphant noise when he got it on properly. “Okay, where were we?”

“I'm a slippery thing,” she pointed out. “Should I really be letting you near me?”

He jutted his lower lip out.

It was ruined by him trying not to smile.

She kissed him instead of calling him out on it, sitting up and wrapping her arms around his neck. And when Adrien pushed her back, making it so he was on top of her, Marinette happily spread her legs and shifted to make it more comfortable for the both of them.

With one hand beside her head for support, the other trailed over her hips before he took his arousal in hand to guide it into her with precision rather than clumsy movements.

Marinette wrapped her legs around his waist, moaning in what she hoped to be encouragement when he found the right spot and was able to slide in without a lot of resistance.

There was still a sting of pain from how impatient they'd been.

Adrien realised that immediately. “I'm sorry, I—”

“It's fine,” she interrupted, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips before smiling up at him. “I would've pushed you away if it hurt too much.”

He frowned. “But—”

“Adrien,” she insisted, shifting her hips. “You're not hurting me.”

“But I stabbed you without warning,” he said, kissing her cheek. “Trust me, I know how that feels.”

She stared at him.

He laughed. “That was funny!”

Marinette stared more, trying to keep a straight face.

And when she finally burst into laughter, Adrien's head fell down onto her shoulder, his whole body shaking with his own laughter. It was silly, the laughter not seeming to stop since they kept setting each other off, and he said that it felt weird being inside her while her laughs had become breathless.

Adrien smiled at her in a way that showed the crinkles at the corner of his eyes.

It was only with him that she'd experienced that.

She kissed him, feeling giddy from the breathlessness and how he'd looked at her with such affection—she couldn't fully put into words how he made her felt, but she was sure her expressions revealed just as much as his.

He rolled his hips, making her moan.

The kiss became sloppy. There was the feel of his warm breath, the sound of skin-on-skin as he thrust into her filling the room, and the each movement of his making it obvious how wet she was from the noises between them.

And when she moaned his name, he kissed her harder.

Marinette had no complaints.

There were no interruptions that time; he slowed down, slowly taking his arousal out until only the tip was inside her before thrusting back in, making her toes curl from the pleasure. He was gentle and tried to be precise instead of making their first time rushed.

Her nails dug into his back in encouragement as the feeling in her abdomen started to build up, the tell-tale sign that she was close. The noises escaping her got louder, his thrusts becoming shallower as they were chest-to-chest, and she broke the kiss to bury her head between his shoulder and neck, the skin doing nothing to muffle her cries of pleasure.

And as she shuddered, legs tightening around him, Adrien continued to rut against her. She felt too overwhelmed to meet his thrusts, but that wasn't a problem because it felt like it was no time before he was doing the same, almost falling on top of her as he finished.

She could hear him breathing.

Marinette pushed his hair away from his face, pressing kisses to the flushed skin.

His smile was bright.

-x-

“Are you gloating?” Chloé demanded.

Marinette smiled widely. “Am I? I might be.”

“I don't want to hear it,” Chloé retorted, gesturing to her empty glass. “You've gotta pay for my time, remember?”

“I'll pay because you bought my drink before,” she replied, trying to get the bartender's attention. “It's okay to admit we're friends, you know.”

Chloé scowled. “Fuck off.”

“You're the one that invited me here,” she pointed out. “And a couple of times before this, too. We're pals.”

“Don't say pals.”

“Friends, companions,” Marinette said in a sing-song voice, tucking some short hairs behind her ear. “Some might even say we're _chums_.”

“You're disgusting,” Chloé accused. “I prefer you when you're wallowing and ugly.”

She gladly announced, “I've never been ugly.”

“Now your ego is outrageous,” Chloé muttered. “What have I done?”

“You helped me reach my true potential,” Marinette replied, reaching out and patting her arm. “I'm very thankful to you.”

Chloé slapped her hand away. “Be thankful enough to shut the fuck up.”

She laughed loudly.

“Seriously,” Chloé insisted. “I don't need to hear about your relationship with this mystery man, okay? Good job for getting his attention or whatever, but I want to talk about something else.”

She smiled. “What use are you if not to help me with him?”

Chloé raised her middle finger.

It was a nice evening.

After Marinette left the bar where she'd left Chloé almost passed out on a stool, she'd called up Adrien to see what he'd been doing.

He invited her to a nearby club where he was with his friends.

She took a detour to a public toilet to fix her appearance, smoothing out her long hair with her fingers before deciding that she looked presentable. The bag she had zipped up, thankfully.

While she'd heard about his friends before, the opportunity to meet them hadn't even been proposed. Adrien had said in passing that he'd thought that they'd get along, though that didn't mean much when he was only just getting to know her.

She had two drinks in her system when she paid to enter the nightclub, looking for a specific area that Adrien had sent her a picture of over text as his way of telling her where to go.

When she caught sight of him, he happily got up and closed the distance between them to bring her into a tight hug.

“You made it!” he exclaimed, a slight slur to his words.

That was something that they hadn't done together yet; the evenings they spent together hadn't involved alcoholic drinks thus far, not even at restaurants.

He seemed to be happy, though.

“I'm here,” she said, hugging him back.

Adrien kissed her without thinking about her lipstick.

She wiped the corners of his mouth with her thumb, trying to get rid of the smears.

He leaned into her touch with a dopey-looking smile.

One of his friends whistled, causing the rest to burst into laughter and call out Adrien's name.

It was going to be fine.

And it was with her thinking that that it seemed to come true. Adrien's friends happily welcomed her, patting the seat between them all for her to sit down and try and talk over the music, and the alcohol in everyone's bodies made it easier to not feel nervous.

Marinette thought she did well.

Adrien dragged her to the bar, barely making it halfway before he had her against a wall, kissing her passionately.

She laughed at his enthusiasm.

“You look so good,” he gushed, trailing kisses down her neck and smoothing his hands over her dress in appreciation. “Do you always wear this to see your friends?”

“We do go to a bar,” she mused. “And if I turned up in a t-shirt and jeans, she'd probably kick me. Fashion is very important.”

He bit her neck. “You dress so well.”

“Do I?” she asked, half-heartedly trying to push him away.

They were hardly the most scandalous ones in the club, but that didn't mean she wanted him to grind against her when they weren't even dancing. He seemed too drunk to really care that he was being inappropriate.

Adrien looked at her with a dopey since before he said, “Your eyes don't look blue.”

She lamely replied, “It's the light.”

He accepted that without questioning it.

Adrien held her closer, nosing her hair and breathing against her ear as he asked, “Want to leave?”

Marinette laughed. “I just got here!”

“You've been here, like, half an hour,” he corrected, taking her lobe into his mouth for a moment before he pulled back to look at her. “I'd rather go home with you right now. What do you say?”

She smiled widely.

Somehow, that short meeting was enough for his friends to suggest for him to bring her along next time.

There wasn't any reason to turn them down.

Adrien was dramatic about it.

He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into his chest. “I don't want to share you.”

“No?” she asked.

“Absolutely not,” he confirmed, squeezing her tight. “Soon they'll be stealing you away to spend time with you _without_ me. That's my worst nightmare.”

She didn't try to hide her smile. “Possessive, are you?”

“A bit,” he agreed with a laugh. “I admit, I got a bit jealous thinking that you got all dressed up for your friends before I realised how stupid that was.”

“It's not stupid,” she assured him. “I like that you're jealous.”

He sounded surprised. “You do?”

“Yeah, it means you like me, right?” she replied, closing her eyes as she leaned into him. “And that your feelings aren't settled enough to trust me completely. I'm not offended, I swear. I mean, we haven't even been dating for two months yet.”

“You're... not mad?” he questioned, baffled.

“No,” Marinette confirmed. “I'm flattered.”

“You're strange,” he said, sounding happy about that. “Everyone else has threatened to kick my ass when I've told them that before.”

She laughed. “Clearly, I'm better.”

“Oh, hell yeah,” he agreed.

Their relationship was going well.

The routine of seeing each other before he went to work continued; Marinette drew her commissions while waiting for him to appear, stayed for a few more hours before saying bye to Rose on her way out, and spent the rest of her day doing whatever she wanted. It wasn't often that Adrien finished work before five in the afternoon, leaving her schedule free for the most part.

And the evenings when he couldn't meet up because he was too tired, he still called her before he went to bed.

They were both comfortable with texting.

Marinette had learned so much more about him than she'd seen from afar; knew how his face scrunched up when he ate something too sour, how he liked his drinks, and knew that he had a habit of wearing socks to bed and regretting it in the middle of the night when he accidentally kicked her from trying to get them off one time.

Her obsession to be everything to him grew.

And Adrien—

He accepted all of her; he responded to texts at any hour, regardless of if he was busy at work or with friends, asked her about her plans and what she was doing, and encouraged any behaviour she showed when they were together.

From what she knew, she hadn't moved too fast at all.

Adrien was comfortable with everything.

Her parents were cheering her on, saying all the right things that friends normally would've. Her mother was someone that she told everything; either over the phone or when we went to visit, and it was accepted that anything she said would make it to her father, too.

She didn't care that some might think it was odd that they were so close.

They supported her in all the right ways; had helped her through college and choosing which university to go to, being there when her friendships had crumbled from preferring to stay home instead of going out and dealing with all of the drama.

For once, she had someone that she cared about as much as them.

Adrien wished her luck when she went to visit them for dinner, promising to respond to any texts within minutes while she was gone.

She kissed him until she was breathless.

The drive wasn't long. She put on her favourite playlist for music, drummed her fingers against the wheel, and felt almost giddy as she pulled into the driveway.

A neighbour that she'd known since she was a kid was outside taking out the rubbish. Marinette waved, exchanging pleasantries with them before she used her key to get in through the front door.

She slipped her shoes off as she called out, “I'm here!”

“Marinette!” Tom shouted back, running down to stairs to bring her into a hug.

She tried to squeeze him back tightly, but he was stronger than her.

It was something that she'd always admired.

“Busy day?” she asked, pointedly looking at his black clothes.

He struck a pose. “They suit me, right?”

“Very dapper,” she confirmed. “Where's Mom?”

“She's getting your surprise ready,” he replied, putting a finger under her chin to make her look up at him. “We put a lot of effort into this one. I hope you appreciate it, kiddo.”

She beamed. “I appreciate everything you do.”

Tom brushed her hair away from her face. “I know you do, but it's always nice to be reminded.”

“You're the best,” she assured him, smile showing her teeth. “How else would you have a kid like me?”

“I think we got lucky with you,” he mused. “Or it was all your mom's doing. You didn't get all this goodness from me.”

She laughed. “Goodness?”

“Goodness,” he confirmed with a wink. “It's what your boy thinks, isn't it?”

“Adrien,” she insisted. “You can say his name!”

“You never let me before,” he pointed out.

Marinette childishly crossed her arms. “Well, he's mine now.”

“Cute,” Tom cooed, ruffling her hair and stepping back before she could retaliate. “Let's go see your mother, shall we? She's been counting down the minutes for you to arrive.”

“The traffic wasn't bad,” she replied. “I'm not late.”

“You know she gets jittery,” he said, guiding her past the stairs and through to the kitchen. “Actually, do you want to change first? You do look rather nice today.”

Her smile widened. “Changed?”

“It's not _that_ much of a secret.” Tom tutted. “Come on, pretend to be surprised still, please? I'll wait here for you.”

“I'll be quick!” she exclaimed, rushing through the hallway and running up the stairs to where her old bedroom was located.

There was a drawer filled with black clothes that she picked a random selection out of. The material almost felt rough, nothing compared to the quality of clothing that she wore lately. Then again, she would've worn it almost daily if it was comfortable before without really caring if it looked good for her body shape.

She liked her new self more.

It was what had gotten Adrien's attention, after all.

Taking her hairband out, she pulled her hair into a high ponytail, leaving her bangs over her forehead. It didn't matter that it was messy.

With a text to Adrien that she'd gotten there safely, she went back downstairs to see that her father had pulled the dining table out and removed the rug to open up the hatch.

She couldn't hide her excitement.

“About time,” Tom said, bowing and indicating for her to go down first.

The wood creaked with each of her steps.

There was a light on at the bottom. The bulb was bright enough to make out the entire room; plastic covering the floor and stuck on the walls, and in a chair near the centre was a slumped figure with a plastic bag over their head obscuring their identity.

Marinette laughed at the brand on the bag.

Her mother looked up from her phone, hopping to her feet with a bright smile. “Sweetheart, you made it!”

“I'm not busy this week,” she replied, hugging her tightly, though not trying to make her breathless like she had with her dad. “Is this my surprise? I like it already.”

Sabine's smile was so wide her eyes almost looked closed. “Why don't you find out who it is?”

Tom came down the stairs after shutting the hatch, the wood creaking more from his added weight.

She wandered closer, crouching down and pressing her fingers against the neck to see whether there was a pulse.

They were alive still.

And to her surprise, they flinched away from her, muffled noises coming out from underneath the bag.

“Take it off,” Tom suggested, giving his wife a kiss on the cheek.

Marinette grinned before doing as she was told.

It was a face that she recognised.

“Oh, my,” she murmured, looking Chloé in the eyes and feeling a rush of glee from the fear that she saw. Marinette looked over her shoulder at her parents with a wide smile. “You guys, you shouldn't have!”

Sabine gave her a thumbs up.

She returned the gesture, letting the bag fall down to the floor.

Chloé struggled from where her arms and legs were tied to the chair, only causing it to wobble slightly, and the gag prevented her from talking. Tears were appearing in her eyes as she tried to say anything, the pleading expression one that did nothing to sway her emotions.

Marinette couldn't stop smiling.

She poked Chloé's cheek. “I had no idea you were even gone.”

Chloé flinched away.

“You did say you had no use for her any more,” Tom helpfully pointed out. “So, we thought we'd help you out with that.”

“I love it,” she gushed, sitting down on the floor properly and crossing her legs, grinning at Chloé. “This solves me having to ask you guys for a favour again.”

“It's never too much trouble to help you out,” Sabine replied. “We love spending time with you, honey.”

She said back in a sing-song voice, “I love you, too.”

Chloé was sobbing, tears and snot trailing down her face and ruining her make-up further. It was worse than when she got drunk and lost all composure, draping herself across the dirty bar while she begged the bartender for another drink.

“Can I take it off?” she questioned, pointing to the gag.

“If you want,” Tom answered, supportive as ever. “No one's going to hear her. Do think about your ears, though.”

Chloé was shaking as she took the gag off.

The first words from her mouth were, “S-Stella? What's going on?”

She felt giddy from the rush of excitement.

“Stella?” Marinette questioned, twirling a piece of her long hair around her finger. “Are you sure you've got the right person?”

Chloé cried.

-x-

“What kind of drawings do you normally do?” Adrien asked.

“This and that,” she replied vaguely. “Mainly video game characters or ones from shows. They're more in demand than... realistic portraits? Plus, I get to have some fun with the styles and do some cool backgrounds.”

He was curious. “Some fantasy stuff, then?”

“Yeah, I guess,” she confirmed, brushing her hair behind her ear. “Or the characters are from something fantasy-related. I think I've only ever had... one commission of a real person? And even then it was a member of some band, so not someone they knew personally.”

“So, it's freelance?” he questioned.

Marinette nodded. “It was a hobby that turned into a career, thankfully.”

“You drew while I was out egging people's houses,” he mused. “You did have friends, right? I doubt being homeschooled means you were completely alone.”

“There were a few neighbourhood kids I played with sometimes,” she admitted. “But I didn't really get along with them.”

Adrien hugged her and rested his head on top of hers. “That sounds sad.”

“It's not!” she insisted, shaking her head and causing him to have to sit up properly. “I told you, I love my parents. And the tutors they hired for me were really nice, too. I never felt like I was missing anything.”

“Was university weird?” he asked.

“It was weird being away from home,” she replied, tucking some strands behind her ear. “I came back, like, almost every weekend that I was free. It seemed better than sticking around and hearing my room-mates partying.”

He tutted. “You party pooper.”

“I partied with you just fine the other night,” she shot back.

Adrien kissed her hair. “You seduced me.”

“I did no such thing,” she denied with a huff. “It's not my fault you have no self-control.”

“Why should I when you accept me for everything?” he questioned, dramatically rubbing his cheek against hers. “You never tell me off. My confidence is soaring because I'm never rejected. If you ever dump me, I'll be ruined.”

“Dump you?” she parroted, turning her head to be able to look at him. Reaching out, she cupped his face and rested their foreheads against each other. “Why would I ever do that?”

He grinned. “Because I'm stupid?”

“My kind of stupid,” she assured him, smile reaching her eyes. “Besides, I've finally got your attention. Why would I tell you to fuck off now?”

“Finally?” Adrien questioned, bumping their noses together. “What is that supposed to mean?”

She wasn't embarrassed as she replied, “That I used to think that you were cute in the mornings.”

He didn't try and hide his smile. “You were looking at me?”

“You're loud when you talk to Rose,” she told him.

He laughed. “I'm a morning person.”

“I'm not,” she mumbled, closing her eyes and slumping against him to rest her head on his shoulder, throwing her arm loosely around his waist. “I need silence to wake up, okay. Not you kissing me.”

She could feel it as he laughed again. “You're not into morning sex?”

“No, that's why I keep rejecting you,” she muttered. “Give me at least forty minutes.”

“I thought that was for after eating,” he teased. “Are you getting mixed up?”

“Forty minutes is the magic number for everything,” she helpfully replied. “It gives me time to process everything and wake up.”

Adrien mused, “Soon you'll tell me you hate surprises.”

“It depends on the surprise,” was her response to that.

He sounded disappointed. “You're so lucky you're hot.”

“Me?” Marinette laughed. “I should be saying that to you. Your sense of humour is _terrible_.”

“But you never mean it when you tell me to fuck off,” he pointed out, ruffling her hair to try and get a reaction out of her. “You want me to stick around forever, don't you? I know you do.”

She made a point to bite his neck gently. “That has nothing to do with finding you funny.”

He made a startled noise. “Marinette!”

“What?” she replied, innocent. “I'm just repaying you for all the jokes I have to suffer through.”

He sniffed. “I thought you liked puns.”

“Only when they're actually good,” Marinette happily replied. “And that's barely ever with you, unfortunately.”

He dramatically lamented, “This is even worse than if you called my dick small.”

She laughed. “I'm never going to say that.”

“Oh, what would you say, then?” he questioned, making what he wanted clear from the tone of his voice. She didn't need to look up to know that he was smiling. “Come on, tell me.”

She snorted. “No.”

“Spoilsport,” he mumbled.

“I thought I was a party pooper,” Marinette pointed out. “You can't just change it already. I'm still coming to terms with that insult.”

“Need forty minutes?” he teased.

She laughed. “I could think a better way to spend that time.”

He stroked her hair that time, not trying to get a rise out of her. “Are you not going to tell me again?”

There was a nervous lilt to her voice as she said, “I could draw you.”

His hand stopped.

And for a moment, she thought that he'd reject her.

“Draw me?” he queried, sounding a bit confused. “You'd—actually want to do that?”

“Is it that surprising?” Marinette asked, sitting upright to be able to look at him, smiling as she saw that his expression matched his voice. “I can't say I'd do you justice.”

Adrien was smiling so widely. “Do me any way you want.”

She hit his chest gently. “I'm being serious!”

“I am, too,” he insisted, taking her hand and holding it up to press a kiss to her knuckles. “Of course I'd be fine with you drawing me. If you want, I'll even go nude for you.”

She blinked. “You have no shame.”

“I might have an erection since you'll be looking at me, though,” he mused. “Is that a problem?”

“You're never a problem,” she assured him.

It turned out that he wasn't kidding.

Adrien was completely fine to pose for pictures, adjusting his body for what she had in mind without question. It didn't matter if they were outside and happened to stop where there was good lighting, or if they were in his living room and idly fiddling with their phones to pass the times—Adrien was on board for her taking his picture at any time.

She decided to test the boundaries of that.

It started with when he'd come out of the shower, only his pyjama bottoms on as he dried his hair.

Adrien had smiled, happily moving the towel around his shoulders to allow her to see more of his body.

And when she'd said that it was a nice shot, he'd seemed genuinely happy at that.

He liked being photographed.

“I like attention,” was his confession to that, a bit of shyness in that statement as he ran a hand through his hair.

Marinette kissed him to express the feelings that she couldn't put into words.

There was so much about him that was appealing; it wasn't only his beauty that had attracted her in the beginning. He was always so open with his feelings, everything showing on his expression and making it obvious when he was trying to lie, and there was something enticing about someone so honest.

So, it wasn't a surprise when he said that he loved her first.

It wasn't a casual declaration either.

Adrien made a big deal out of it, waiting until she'd climbed into his car to reach into the backseat and retrieve a bouquet of flowers that he'd purchased for her.

“Flowers?” she questioned, smiling as she held them to her chest, not wanting them to be squished on the floor. “What did I do to deserve this?”

“Exist,” he replied without hesitation. “And because you're lovable.”

“Lovable?” Marinette asked, mouthing the word under her breath.

“Very,” he confirmed, smile showing his teeth. “I love you.”

She blinked. “Cool.”

“ _Cool_?” Adrien laughed. “I'm trying to do a big confession here!”

“...I mean, I kind of already knew that?” she awkwardly replied, brushing her hair over her shoulder. “You're really obvious about it.”

He narrowed his eyes. “I am?”

“Do you kiss everyone's forehead?” Marinette questioned.

He pursed his lips.

“Or hold them close and sniff their hair?” she asked. “Because you didn't do that when we first started dating. You're very... touchy-feely. Your actions are your love language.”

“It sounds like you've been studying me,” he joked.

Marinette beamed. “I got my diploma in Adrien Studies.”

He smiled right back at her. “I think you passed with flying colours.”

It didn't take long for them to make it into his bed.

The original plan was for her to stay over for the weekend—borrowing his clothes to sleep in and using the toothbrush and other items he'd bought for her to use and keep at his—and have it be a lazy time for them both to relax. Adrien had been complaining about work the entire week, saying that it was stressful and that he needed to unwind with her there to be his stressball.

She'd asked whether her ass was the ball or not.

Adrien had almost choked from his laughter.

It was Adrien that suggested that she get her phone first.

He was trailing kisses down her chest and beginning to focus on her nipples as he asked, “Do you want a picture of this, too?”

Marinette didn't know what to say to that.

Then, he suggested it again when his kisses went lower, pushing her legs apart and settling between them.

Her photo gallery slowly got more explicit.

And Adrien—

Adrien was completely fine with it, encouraging her. Somehow, he wasn't put off by her in the slightest. Their relationship had developed out of nowhere, appearing as suddenly as his attention had turned to her that one morning, and all of it played out like something from a daydream.

The object of her affections for so long was there, encouraging her to take pictures of him kissing her body, going as far as to glance up and look into the camera with a smile.

And with his first confession of love that day, they just kept coming. It was said by either of them when they were in bed, at the end of conversations on the phone, and when he went to work in the morning and left her in the café.

Rose enjoyed whistling at the two of them.

It was her reaching out to him when she said, “I ordered a double bed.”

Adrien took a moment to realise what she'd said. Then, his smile was so wide as he asked, “That means I can come over, right?”

“And stay over,” she confirmed, smiling right back.

It was a big deal letting someone in her home.

While being friends with Chloé, they'd only ever met up outside. She'd never seen Chloé's home, had never invited her back to hers, and Marinette had certainly never invited any of her flings in the past back to her safe space.

The lie of the double bed was one she'd written down to remember.

She packed up the belongings that she didn't want him to see, tidying them away in a box at putting them in the back of her car for when she visited her parents the next time.

Adrien made a big deal of being wide-eyed and taking in every detail of where she lived; from the street on the outside that he'd always seen when he dropped her off, to looking at every ornament on display inside and the pictures that she'd hung up on the walls.

He whistled at the amount of money she'd put into her computer and other devices.

“It suits you,” he said, touching the folded blanket she had over the back of her sofa.

Marinette beamed. “Thank you.”

“You'll never get rid of me now,” he teased, settling down and making himself comfortable. “I'm going to be here _forever_.”

“That's fine with me,” she replied, her slippers making a noise as she came to sit beside him. “You're welcome here whenever you want. I think I have a better shower than you, anyway.”

He waggled his eyebrows. “Want to find out together?”

Later, he agreed that she was right.

“We should test out everything else, too,” he mused, pressing a kiss into her hair. “And I mean everything. Like, who has better mugs? Who's keep drinks warmer for longer? That's important.”

“So, you're saying you want to live here and test it all out,” she mused.

Adrien winked at her. “For a weekend.”

“You can stay forever,” she assured him, patting his thigh. “I can even get you a key, if you want.”

He laughed. “A bit soon for that. I've only just unlocked coming into your home.”

“Now you can lock the door again,” she joked.

He flicked the end of her nose. “And you tell _me_ off for making bad jokes.”

“I'm allowed to, I'm pretty,” she replied with a smile.

He didn't deny that.

After having him round for the first time, it became routine for him to come over. Sometimes, Marinette was hauled up in her office working on a commission, her phone sitting on her desk as she waited for him to text or call to say that he'd finished work, only for there to be a knock at her door where Adrien kissed her when she answered it.

There was a lot of trust between them.

She met his friends for the second time when they weren't drunk.

They liked her, thankfully. There was no mention that she looked different than she had in the dim lights of the club. When Adrien kissed her head idly while talking to her, their catcalls had made him flustered and embarrassed at first before he said that it was his love language.

That made them tease him even more.

And when Adrien looked at her to save him, she'd simply patted his head.

It made the rest of them laugh.

Making him happy and not coming across as insane meant that they liked her; the invitations to meet up came after exchanging numbers, inviting her to tag along with Adrien the majority of the time, and while she knew that they'd never truly be her friends and take her side if anything happened, it was nice to see the people that he was closest with not from a distance.

They were a bit different than she'd seen from their online comments on social media, but they weren't horrible.

Marinette had long since realised getting to know people in person showed different sides to their personalities.

Adrien never complained when she went to see her parents.

In fact, he asked, “Can I come and meet them?”

She was overjoyed at that. “I'll need to make sure they're okay with it first! Not that they'd hate you or anything, but my dad will get embarrassed if he can't make you a grand meal or something.”

Adrien was surprised at that. “What?”

“You're the first boyfriend I'm bringing home,” she pointed out. “They'll make a big deal out of it.”

“Oh, right,” he said, surprise still clear in his voice. “I—yes. That's a thing.”

She kissed his cheek before going to visit them alone that weekend, promising to bring up the topic of him coming along next time.

There was no surprise waiting for her that time.

Her parents welcomed her with open arms, insisting that they'd changed the duvet in her old bedroom for her to spend the night. There were no complaints about that when Tom happily pointed out that he'd bought her favourite food and drinks for the evening, and that Sabine had found a film that seemed like it would appeal to all of them.

It was a relatively easy-going evening.

She fetched her belongings from her car, including the box.

Tom whistled. “You moving back in or something? Not that I'm complaining, but I thought things were going well for you.”

“They are.” Marinette beamed. “But I needed to clean up for Adrien to start coming over to mine.”

That earned a gasp. “You're inviting him round now?”

She felt giddy. “Yes! He's been coming over and surprising me after work sometimes.”

“Well, I'm glad you're happy,” Tom said, taking the box from her hands and carrying it for her. Although it wasn't heavy, she appreciated the thought. “As long as he treats you well, you're welcome to bring him here with warning.”

That went as easy as she'd expected.

“This is light,” Tom remarked, opening the lid to peer inside. “Only your albums?”

“And the knife,” she admitted. “But you can't look in there, okay? There's some... well, not appropriate pictures now.”

Tom snorted. “That's not something you should say to your father.”

“Consider it my diary,” she quipped. “No touching, okay? No matter how curious you might be.”

“Honey, you already showed us all the old ones,” he pointed out. “And the new ones you sent us show how much better you've gotten at taking pictures, so I don't need to snoop to compare.”

She huffed. “You two just have shaky hands.”

“Yes,” he agreed. “You took all the talent there. Our handy little cameraman, aren't you?”

Marinette had to laugh at that. “I liked to think I was a private investigator, actually.”

“One armed with a knife?” he joked.

“I failed my gun test,” she deadpanned.

Tom juggled the box to ruffle her hair. “I'm proud of you, kid. You got what you wanted.”

“Yeah,” Marinette agreed, an almost wistful quality to her voice. Her chest felt warm as she smiled, not trying to hide how happy she was. “And I didn't have to get my feelings out through stabbing this time. That's good, right?”

He teased, “Therapy helped you.”

“And having a kid helped you,” she retorted, raising her head haughtily. “You can't leave me alone, all right? I have barely any self-control.”

“We're not going anywhere, sweetheart,” Tom told her, nudging her bedroom door open with his hip. “And neither are you. We're very careful.”

She had to ask, “And Adrien's not going anywhere, right?”

“Of course not,” he agreed without hesitation. “We already promised you to back off before, remember? I'm never breaking that promise to you.”

She sniffed. “Good.”

“Trust your dad, will you?” he said, setting the box down on her bed. “All I want is to see you happy.”

“I'll be happy if you never look in this box,” she pointed out, picking it up and shoving it under her bed.

“Oh, yes,” Tom remarked. “The normal place to hide porn.”

She glared at him.

-x-

Adrien baked a cake to take to her parents.

They were excited to finally meet him in the first place, but having him on their porch holding a gift had them whipping out the good wine and insisting that he sit down at the dining table at the chair that squeaked the least.

He got tipsy quickly.

Marinette was in much the same condition, pressing her face against the cold wood of the table.

“Your rug feels so nice,” Adrien gushed, referring to the one under them. “But what if you spill food on it? That would be a _disaster_.”

Sabine smiled. “We're good at cleaning up spills around here.”

Adrien mumbled, “I'm not.”

“Need some tips for your washing?” Tom questioned with a laugh.

“Please, I dye everything pink whenever I buy something red because I'm an idiot,” he complained.

It was safe to say that they liked him.

When they left the following morning, having slept in Marinette's childhood bedroom squished together in a single bed, Adrien understood why he'd never stayed over at her place before when there was so little room to sleep.

Tom clapped him on the shoulder and said, “You look so much better than in your pictures.”

Sabine elbowed her husband, correcting that statement with, “What he means is, it's nice to see you two interact. We can't see that when you're making eyes at each other in selfies.”

Marinette's face was horribly red from that interaction.

And Adrien did what he did best when he didn't know what to do—he laughed, showing his oblivious bright smile, thinking that everything was okay.

He was perfect.

Adrien was open with everything; his feelings, what he'd done with his days, and all of his plans for the upcoming future. Marinette didn't have to pester him to try and find out everything that he was doing when it came from him naturally.

It was no longer her looking at him from a distance, wondering how it would feel to have him offer her more than a polite smile.

He was there, holding her close and whispering sweet words into her ear, pressing kisses to every inch of her exposed skin. Adrien was a bit obsessive that when he'd gotten a taste of something—whether it was a new food he liked the taste of, or something they'd done with their clothes off—and wanted to do it repeatedly.

She never complained about it.

And Adrien—he didn't think there was anything weird about her.

She was so in love.

And, somehow, he felt the same about her.

It was almost always him holding the knife and cutting the ingredients for their dinner while they were at his with Marinette sat on the island talking to him. While at hers, he tried to imitate it by jumping up on the counter after getting permission that it was okay.

The radio was on for background noise.

“You braided your hair,” he mused, too far away to touch it like he normally would when complimenting her. “It looks nice.”

She didn't look up from the chopping board. “Does it?”

“Very,” Adrien confirmed, smile clear in his voice. “But you know that you're always cute.”

“ _The body of a twenty-six-year old woman was partially found yesterday—_ ”

“I think you might just be in love with me,” she mused. “I look terrible when I wake up.”

Adrien laughed. “Your puffy eyes give me life.”

“Do they?” she questioned. “Because you being so chipper in the mornings makes me want to die.”

He replied, “I'll get you to like morning sex soon.”

Marinette snorted. “Forty minutes, Adrien.”

“Thirty-nine?” he compromised.

She tutted.

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](http://xiueryn.tumblr.com) (*＾▽＾)／♥


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